What Happens In Vegas
by Demonic Charm
Summary: After a wild night in Vegas, two completely different people wake up to find themselves married. Condemned to live together by court for the stake of 3 million, Francis and Arthur will do whatever it takes to make the other back down and take the money for themselves. [Based upon What Happened In Vegas script] [FrUK] [Human AU] [Hinted Asakiku in first chapter]
1. Chapter 1

Despite it being an ordinary and stressful Monday morning, Arthur Kirkland was all smiles. He couldn't stop thinking about what would happen after work. It was going to be thrilling! He passed the drink into his partner's hands. "Here you go, darling. I got you some green tea. Thought, you know, a little change of pace because somebody deserves something special for his birthday!"

Kiku smiled faintly as he took a warm sip of the drink. The streets were noisy and busy with people going to work. They would end up parting at the end of the road but since their office blocks were only a short distance away, they made sure to walk together each morning and get a cup of tea.

"Yeah. It's good," he said gratefully. It was nice to have _something _different in their endless routine. The Japanese man could only sigh when he heard Arthur's plans for the day.

"I made reservations tonight at Babbo at 8:30. I thought maybe we could talk about, you know, setting a date?"

Kiku looked over at his fiancé in surprise. "Did you just make a plan to make a plan?"

Arthur smiled apologetically as they walked on together. "Did I just do that again? Sorry." He didn't mean to keep doing that. He only wanted for everything to be perfect and had grown out of that younger rebellious stage where he did everything in the heat of the moment.

Kiku nodded and barely listened to Arthur's rambles about what they could do to celebrate his birthday. He wasn't highly interested in celebrating the day and was eager to get to work where he could be left in peace. When they reached the end of the street, the point where they separated, he waved a small farewell. "Sayonara."

"Happy birthday," Arthur called out after him as they parted ways.

Kiku barely looked over his shoulder as he called back without realising what was said. "You, too!"

* * *

Yawning, Francis opened his apartment door and gazed out at the visitor. In an instant, all tiredness swept away from him. He flashed a smile towards his guest. Standing there was a tall brunette female with a rather revealing Girl Scout outfit.

"Hello, sir. Would you like to buy some cookies?" she asked as she curled a strand of hair around her little pinkie. Her chest was puffed out some more so her cleavage was all he could gaze at.

Not to seem so easy, Francis leaned against his doorway and rubbed his chin. His eyes were still looked onto her cleavage and he knew he could not be turning this offer down. "I would. I really would. I just…." He looked behind his shoulder to look over his apartment. He had been slacking off on the tidying and it was far messier than usual. "Unfortunately, I don't have any money."

A playful smile crossed her lips when Francis finally locked onto her gaze. "I don't have any cookies," she whispered. She leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Francis was able to catch her and secured her into place as they shared a heated kiss.

A couple of hours later, they were laying nude on the bed. Coated in hot sweat and panting hoarsely, they were still twitching slightly from the aftereffects of their sexual act. His latest catch rolled onto her front and kissed along his neck. "Francis... I need a key."

Francis jolted awake and laughed nervously. "Wow…. A k-key?" He did not expect for that to happen for many more months. It was the same routine. He'll get a girlfriend, they have many flings, and then she starts to believe it's the real deal and –

"What? No!" She sat up with an expression of disgust. "I want a key to your apartment so I don't have to wait outside when I'm dressed in these little slutty outfits." She moved her long hair away from her sweaty front and huffed. "I don't want to live with you. No offense. And you know I mean this in the nicest possible way. You're not exactly serious boyfriend/marriage material."

Wow. That was rather blunt. Francis blinked as he recovered from that shocking statement. He knew he wasn't one for commitment but it rather hurt to hear it like that. But he smiled. "And I pride myself on that."

She smiled back and moved off the bed to collect her clothing. Francis did not bother to watch her dressed and stared up at the ceiling until she spoke to him again. "I gotta go. I'll see you next week. What're we doing?"

Francis rolled onto his side and gazed her up. She did have a fine figure and he could imagine her in almost any outfit. And it would always have a turn on effect for him – even if it was a basic and ordinary wear. He smirked as an idea came to his mind. "Mother of the baby saved from the fire and the sexy shirtless fireman?"

* * *

Arthur arrived into the office with barely ten minutes to spare. He picked up his pace and ran over to the lift that was just beginning to close. He caught the door in time and walked inside, panting slightly from the sprint. The doors sealed behind him and he glanced at his watch again. He may be able to fit in another cup of tea before he got to his office room.

"Opium."

"Yao."

The Brit's attention was caught and he glanced over at the Chinese man standing there in a corner of the lift. The two exchanged a dark look that barely shifted when the doors opened on the next floor and a couple more people entered the lift. No one bothered to make comment for everyone was aware of the intense rivalry shared between them.

* * *

Francis and his fellow employees were gazing intently at the screen of the small T.V. they had managed to sneak into the studio. It was the season of the usual football worldwide and they were all cheering on the French team in beating the English team. Francis himself had started a betting pool and everyone had chipped in on what they believe would be the final score.

Like usual, Francis was losing and badly; he had placed too much faith into the French team and placed a lot of money how they beating the English by 3 points. Sadly, the English were beating them by 4 points. The money was already being exchanged for those who believed it was too late to win and given up. Not a lot would change with only ten minutes left in the game.

Then someone near the back began to cough loudly and the crowd quickly broke away. Francis quickly turned off the T.V. and hide it underneath a table before calling out to the people, "that's it! Looking good there! That's good form, love that design, and keep it going!"

"Francis."

Mon dieu, he knew he was in trouble by that firm tone. But he quickly continued to act busy and picked up all the cotton treads he had been using to design a new outfit. He was very creative in his designs but, sadly, often lacked the enthusiasm and focus to complete any.

"Francis. Do you know what time it is?"

"What? I can't hear you over the sewing machines." Francis said loudly as he moved the threads over to the silk. "We're in the zone over here. I don't want to lose focus. That's how people lose fingers, oui?"

"You're fired."

Francis chuckled and smiled over at those around him who was listening in. "We are fired up!"

"You are fired."

His smile faded and he turned to look at his boss, Martialis. The boss looked very much like an older version of himself; similar wavy blond hair (Martialis had it tied back in a plait whereas Francis would tie his back with a ribbon in a ponytail), and they even held the same coloured eyes. But one big difference was that while Francis was one to smile, Martialis held deep frown lines on his face.

Francis knew this routine. It was one that he was too familiar with. He dropped down the materials he was working with. "I'll play you for it." He picked up a pencil and held it out like a sword. "You win, I'm out. I win, I get a second chance."

Martialis looked down at him. He was about a foot taller than Francis. "It's not a second chance when you've had a hundred of them."

* * *

Martialis was fairly wealthy and had booked a spot in the local sports centre for the two. The people there always kept spots open for them. It came in usual many times. Francis and Martialis (seriously, his name was so old-fashioned that Francis could barely believe he would continue using it instead of a nickname like 'Marty') would have a fencing match. The one that reached ten points first would win.

And Francis was currently losing. He felt the jap of the end of a sabre against his chest and then Martialis stepped back. "Seven – Six."

Francis looked disgruntled as he took his place to begin another round. As Martialis stood in front of him, he began to speak again. "You're supposed to be the future boss, but you're too busy being the life of the party. At some point, you're gonna have to step up and be a man."

Francis was distracted by his speech and ended up being hit again. Eight – Six. This was becoming a joke now. He didn't reply though and took his place again, determined to win this round.

The fight barely lasted four minutes and Francis was hit again. Martialis held back again. "Nine-Six."

Francis pulled off his fencing mask and frowned. "This is ridiculous." He refused to play another round. It may be chickening out but he didn't want to be fired and have his pride insulted.

His boss removed his mask as well. He didn't look too surprise. "That's your problem. You can't handle the pressure. As soon as you think you're going to lose, you quit. He poked the end of his sabre into Francis' thigh. "Ten-Six. Don't get me wrong. You're like a son to me."

Francis looked at him with disbelief written all over his handsome face. "Père, I **am** your son."

Martialis raised his eyebrows, unfazed by the tone he was spoken to in. "Oui, and it's time to cut the cord. Let's go clean out your desk."

* * *

Arthur wasted no time in running back to his and Kiku's apartment after work (he was fortunate to have a half day). He had managed to set up the decorations and even had time to run out and buy a cake after his own burnt in the oven. At roughly 6 o'clock, the party guests began to arrive. Usually, he would avoid large social events but he was determined to create the best party he could so ignored the uneasy tension by sticking to one of his close friends – Elizaveta.

The Hungarian female was finishing off the last of the cake for Arthur while he laid out drinks on the table. She listened to his excited rambles and shook her head.

"Kiku has no idea, not an idea at all."

"That you're pathetic, or..."

"What, do you think I went overboard?" Arthur looked over at the endless decorations and the tables that groaned with the weight of the party food. Tucked away in a corner was a large stereo that would only be allowed on when Kiku arrived. Maybe he had gone overboard with it all.

"No. No, I think it's the exact right amount of 'board'," Elizaveta said as she followed his gaze, "which is what I am right now." She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 7 o'clock and everyone was getting restless with waiting.

Arthur went over to the drawers and took out the present he was going to give Kiku. He held them up for Elizaveta to look at. "Vegas?" She looked back at him in disbelief. "I thought you hated Vegas."

"I do, but, you know, that's why they call it a gift tip, because it truly is selfless." Arthur was a hopeless romantic at times despite his clinical nature and was willing to make such acts for someone he truly cared for.

The bell by the door rang and he tucked them into his back pocket. It was the sign they had all be waiting for and everyone began to move into their hiding positions; behind the sofa, in the bathroom, or simply ducking under a table.

Arthur waited until all of them were out of sight before opening the door. He closed it behind him and waited on the landing for Kiku to arrive.

He waited as calmly as he could manage. He was almost rocking on his heels by the time Kiku arrived. He noted the exhaustion on Kiku but decided it must have been the climb up the stairs that did it (the lift had broken down yesterday).

"Hi, honey!" Arthur smiled happily as he opened the door to their apartment. Kiku barely muttered a greeting but Arthur continued on. "Welcome home. Happy birthday! Okay, come inside..."

Kiku took hold of Arthur's hand before he could enter the room. "Listen, Arthur. We need to talk."

"Well, let's do it inside. Okay?" Arthur tugged on his hand to make Kiku walk forward and closer to the door but Kiku planted his heels into the ground to remain standing still.

"I can't, or I'll never do this." Kiku inhaled a deep breath and looked up to meet Arthur's eyes. "Look, there's no easy way to say this."

Arthur could hear the movements of those inside the room and knew that Kiku would catch on quickly if he didn't bring him inside now. "Then don't," he said as he tried to take another step towards the door, "just think about it, and then later, I'll try to figure out what it was you were thinking. Let's just go inside."

Kiku shook his head and pulled his hand away from Arthur's. He looked down at the ground as he spoke. He was never good at awkward situations and this was one of the most awkward. "This can't wait, Arthur. You know I have a really important job. So when I come home, I want this place to be an escape. And as of late, it's not. Yes, the sex is great."

Arthur planted his face into his hands. Oh God. Not this, anything but this! Not with all their friends only a few metres away and possibly listening in. Kiku didn't notice his discomfort in light of his own though and continued.

"I mean, that's fantastic, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate all the things you've been trying with me. But the rest is so exhausting. You're so on all the time, with all the scheduling and planning, it's just..." He inhaled again and looked up timidly. "I don't want to marry you. I'm leaving you. Well, I mean, this is my place, so technically, you would be the one that has to leave, but... Are you crying?"

Arthur shook his head and brushed away the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. Finally taking the hint, Kiku stepped into the room and flicked on the light switch. Each one of the guests slowly emerged out of their hiding spots and stood together, watching the break up.

"Surprise." The Hungarian said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh…." Kiku paled as he looked over at the countless number of people standing there in his apartment. The polite ones looked away and pretended to be interested in the wallpaper. But some, like Elizaveta, looked directly at him with a frown.

* * *

After he was fired, Francis sulked in his apartment where he received a phone-call from Gilbert. Gilbert offered to take him to a club and Francis wasted no time in agreeing to go. They met up at the club around the corner from his apartment half an hour later.

He had known Gilbert since they were children. Their parents moved to America at the same time and took English lessons together. They remained in contact and would often push Gilbert and Francis together while they talked. The two had grown rather close despite their many, many, differences. And one of the benefits of that was Francis had someone he could rant to. "Do you have any idea how much money I've made him? You're my lawyer. Can I sue him for something?"

Gilbert chuckled. His easy-going attitude meant he often failed to see how serious a situation could be, and he was a very poor lawyer because of it. "Well, the problem with suing your father is that he's your dad."

"He'd love it. He'd think we were bonding." Francis scoffed as he drained his sorrows. Damn parents... how was he meant to make his way now? He depended on them for his rent money and would end up on the streets without it. He could live with his friends but he knew enough about them to know it wouldn't work out well.

"Maybe he would be!" Gilbert agreed. He knew exactly what it was like to have a father like that. His was even sterner than Francis' and had demanded he and his brother made their own ways. He sighed and propped his head up onto his arm and stared at the beer foam remains in front of him. "You don't know. Take him to court. It might be nice."

"What am I gonna do about money?" His friend sulked as he ordered another couple of drinks for them. Gilbert would be paying this round so he was going to drink himself happy or unconscious. Sadly, when it was Gil, it was only beer and lager on the menu. No wine.

Gilbert instantly perked up at the sight of another drink and grinned. "You're just realizing that right now? Faszinierend!" He laughed.

Francis straightened up with a dignified look. "I could do a lot of things for money. I'm good at stuff," he said crossly as he flicked his hair over his shoulder and peered around the table, "I... I'll bet you $I can finish this beer faster than you!"

The German laughed harder. Francis was challenging him to a drinking contest? He must be very desperate for money! And he wasn't one to turn down such an offer. "You're on!" And one the count of three, the two friends attempted to drain the drinks as quickly as they could.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another club down the street, Arthur had persuaded his friend Elizaveta to go with him to a bar for a drink. They had barely been there for an hour and Arthur was already resting upon the bar counter and sobbing out his heart. "He doesn't even deserve me! I did everything for him! I knew we were growing distant but…. Why does no one like me?!"

Elizaveta flinched as she watched her friend cry. She barely touched her drink after watching how quickly he fell apart. It annoyed her. She was never one to break down and sob like that. She took revenge, and an idea was already forming in her mind. She wanted until the sobbing died down before nudging Arthur's side and leaned in closer, "Here's my thought on what we should do with this whole Kiku thing."

Arthur sniffed and raised his head from his arms. His eyes were puffy and red and his cheeks were stained with tear trails. It wasn't a pretty sight but Elizaveta looked passed that and smiled in her mischievous manner. "Once a week, we get some of my brother's loser-ass friends to go over to Kiku's house, ring his doorbell, and when he answers, they're just gonna, bang, junk-punch him right up in his man business and then he's gonna keel over. While he's writhing on the ground screaming, "Why?" they'll go, "You know why!""

The Brit blinked and wiped his eyes dry on a napkin that the bartender kindly passed to him. He was offered a glass of water too and quickly took a couple of gulps. He was impressed with the way that her mind worked and he couldn't lie that it made him feel better to imagine it. "Did you just think of that?" he asked.

"No," the Hungarian admitted with another sly smile. "I was thinking about it a lot on the way over." She looked down towards his hand and sighed. "You're gonna need to take off the ring." She did feel some pity for her friend. She knew how it was to break up with a fiancé.

Arthur shook his head and looked down at the gold ring. Now his attention was drawn on it, he was conscious of its existence and began to fiddle around with it. "No, I... I'm just... I'm just gonna... I'm just going to wear it on the other hand…." It wouldn't mean anything then, would it? He pulled it off and switched it onto his other hand.

"Do you know what's gonna make you feel better?"

"What?" Arthur asked.

Elizaveta pulled the tickets that Arthur still had tucked in his back pocket and slammed them down on the counter with a triumphant smile. "Where can you go where you can forget all your troubles and act like a total idiot?"

"Do not say Vegas." Arthur groaned as he looked down at the tickets.

* * *

Gilbert was laughing at his friend's defeat in their drinking game; "You are a child! What is that? What is that?"

Francis pulled a face of disgust at the foul taste of the beer. He really truly detested the drink but was determined to win some money out of his friend. "This is terrible!" he muttered. Now he felt sick. Ah, he needed to get away. Somewhere fun and exciting that had tons of people to distract him from his troubles. He leaned in and smiled as the idea came to him. "Where's the one place where you can step up and be a man?"

"Community college?" Gilbert suggested blankly.

Francis shook his head and the smile grew. "I am talking about one place and one place only, my friend."

Gilbert's eyes shined as he caught on. "Please say Vegas."

"Vegas, baby!"

"_Vegas!"_


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a frantic race to the airports in time for the flights. Packing, booking, money collecting, taxi hunting... it was not the best start to the holiday but they were all too excited to care. What was the worst that could happen anyway?

"Everyone, I'm so sorry, but our computers are down right now, so just bear with us, please."

Francis and Gilbert exchanged exasperated expressions as the crowds around them dispersed. They placed their bags against the wall and sat there with annoyance was they waited for their hotel rooms to be sorted out.

* * *

Meanwhile, Arthur and Elizaveta had just been given their room. Due to the tickets being booked prior, there was only one king sized bed. Neither of the two seem to mind, for Arthur had already mentioned about sleeping on the sofa in his usual act of chivalry. However, neither could resist running into the room and leaping straight onto the bed with cries of glee.

* * *

The lift doors opened and Gilbert and Francis barely managed to pull themselves away from the hen party group inside. They had to kill time somehow! Francis licked his lips in delight and could still taste the lipstick left behind.

"Your fiancé is one lucky guy," he winked at the crowds as the doors closed behind them. Gilbert laughed and tugged on the pretty pink boa left around his friend's shoulders. He had already began drinking and had a large glass in his hands from the bar downstairs.

Together, they found their room and took a look around. It barely held much interest for them as they were planning on spending most of their time out in the clubs. Gilbert was shifting on the spot and placed down his glass as Francis spotted yet another bar in the corner of the main room. "Time to get a big-boy drink."

"I'll have a vodka and a Scotch," Gilbert said as he walked over towards the bed. He grinned and instantly took off his trousers and tossed them onto the bed before stretched out. "This is where I'm passing out!" He called back to Francis before moving over to the bathroom.

* * *

"I really wish you waited until I've finished in here."

Elizaveta only laughed at his embarrassment. He had been by the sink, trying to trim his eyebrows, when she walked in to get a shower. Elizaveta was not the kind of woman to shy away from men because of her breasts and simply stepped into the shower while he turned red and spluttered.

"You won't do anything."

Arthur couldn't argue with her there. He had no interest in women and had strict rules about how he should behaviour around one but it was the fear of what she could, and would, do if he did that kept his eyes locked down on the mirror where he couldn't see the shower.

When he finished, he placed the razor back into the wash-bag and turned to leave when the door handle shook. He paused in alarm and then it opened. A silver-haired man was standing there, looking just as surprised as he did. Then his eyes travelled over to the shower behind Arthur.

Elizaveta screamed loudly.

* * *

Francis blinked and looked up from the cocktails he was making. He heard the screaming and shook his head. Gilbert must have been very drunk to scream that high. "Did we ever tell you that you scream like a girl?"

* * *

Arthur reacted quickly and sprayed the aftershave into Gilbert's eyes. Gilbert screamed and stumbled back in pain, knocking over a table with a vase on it. "My eyes!" He screamed again as he tried to find his way back to his friend in his fleeting blindness. "It burns!"

Only he ended up tripping into the bathroom and bumping his head on the wall as he went. "My head! My head and my eyes are burning!" He tried to lean into the shower to wash water in his eyes but Arthur leapt onto his back and locked his arm around his neck to pull Gilbert away.

Elizaveta slipped out of the shower and pulled on her dressing gown. She tightened her hand into a fist and firmly punched Gilbert squarely in the nose. Gilbert stumbled away, yelling in pain, and cursing out for Francis. He fell out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "My nose! My nose now!"

Francis raised his eyebrows as he heard the commotion. He walked away from the bar and over towards the bedroom to see Gilbert thrashing around on the bed while two people continued to beat the shit out of him. When the scruffy haired male picked up the lamp on the bedside table, Francis quickly rushed over to intervene.

"Take it easy! Calm down!"

Big mistake. Francis barely dodged the lamp that was thrown at him. When he straightened up, he found himself leapt upon by the male. In a moment of panic, Francis choked on the feather boa in his mouth and tripped back onto the bed.

Gilbert and Francis yelled and tried to fight back against the stronger, frantic, two on top of them. The fighting only ceased when Elizaveta noticed Arthur strangling Francis with a fluffy pink boa. Her hand pulled away from the pillow she had forced over Gilbert and then tugged the boa out of Arthur's hands. "It's okay! It's okay! They're gay!"

"What?!" Arthur looked down at the two beneath him. That thought did not make _him_ feel any better.

"WHAT?!" Gilbert cried out as he rubbed his sore face.

"No, no!" Francis quickly freed himself of the boa before it could cause his death and tried to smile at the two in his calmest way possible, "This is not what it looks like!" Though, he didn't seem to mind too much. They both were very cute. He often had the odd fantasy of this (being straddled in this manner by a hot stranger in a hotel room) but didn't remember it being this sore. "We just... We all got booked in the same room. Let's just go downstairs. I smell an upgrade!"

"You guys aren't gay?" Elizaveta asked quietly.

Francis chuckled. "He isn't, but I can go either way ~" He winked up at Arthur.

Elizaveta and Arthur moved off them so quickly that Francis had to laugh.

* * *

That 'cute' male soon turned out to be a very grumpy Englishman, Francis found out. Ever since Arthur and Elizaveta had calmed down, he and Arthur had been arguing non-stop about what to do. Now, walking side by side, they were still arguing as they reached the reception's desk. Arthur snapped at him to stay back so Francis, shrugging, went to stand a short distance away with Gilbert and Elizaveta.

When Arthur approached the desk, there was a dark and intimidating aura around him. Francis instantly felt a pang of pity for the one standing behind the desk when Arthur smiled darkly. "Lovino," Arthur began without letting the man speak, "You and I have a problem. I think we both know how this game works. I complain, and you tell me there's nothing you can do, but we both know that's a big, fat lie, so why don't you just save us both the trouble and type in those special codes that you know you're gonna type in eventually and find me two rooms that are so nice that it turns my night right back around?"

"He's awfully hostile, even for a Brit," Francis grumbled without bothering to keep his voice down. Elizaveta didn't even bother to argue with him on that.

Lovino winced and quickly raised a book to shield himself from the Englishman. He stammered as he replied, "I-i'm going t-to d-do exactly what y-you're telling m-me to do," he was scared stiff by this man and yet tried to glare at him to show he wasn't **that** scared. "Th-there are penthouse suites. You c-c-can't get any higher than that without going on the roof, and you're not allowed on the roof, because people jump..."

Arthur returned to the trio and raised up the room cards. "Penthouse suites," he said in a happy tone. Elizaveta cheered happily as she took theirs. Francis and Gilbert were reluctantly surprised and thrilled with this huge change. But not to be outdone, Francis smirked at Arthur. "Now I shall show you what a _real _man can do."

Arthur glared at Francis' back as the Frenchman walked over to the desk. Francis wasn't shocked at the flinch he received when Lovino looked at him. He smiled pleasantly and turned on the charm, "Hi, I think you just met my friend back there."

Lovino nodded and instantly scowled at him.

Francis was not put off and continued on in the sweet manner, "I want to apologise for him. He's English, he cannot help himself from being how he is. One minute they're charming and eager and the next... Well..." He winked at Lovino. "You know what I mean."

The receptionist nodded though he barely understood what Francis was talking about and listened as the Frenchman talked on. "Look, I don't want to push here but I know that a man in your position is capable of producing certain amenities."

Arthur and Elizaveta frowned when Francis walked back to them with a smug expression and several ticket offers in his hand. "V.I.P." Gilbert cheered loudly, forgetting about his many bruises, as the other two exchanged looks of regrets.

* * *

Feeling daring, Francis shifted over in his seat in the limo till he was barely an inch away from the grumpy Englishman and gave him a charming smile. "So, you're from New York, we're from New York ~"

"…." Arthur didn't even look at Francis as he shifted away. Just having the Frenchman that close was enough to make him uncomfortable. "Driver, we're going to Le Cirque, please!" And the sooner they got there, the better.

His smile dropping slightly, Francis felt a nudge in his ribs. Gilbert was by his side, motioning his hand towards the female. He instantly knew what that meant. Closing the space between him and Arthur again, Francis placed his arm over the top of the seat and moved close to Arthur's ear. A sly smile on his lips as he whispered, "I don't bring my friend all the way out to Vegas so he could get his behind kicked." He ignored the mutters from Gilbert as he pressed on. "So the least you could do is help me show him a good time, oui?"

Elizaveta clicked her tongue between her teeth and glared at the two strangers. "Your friend wouldn't know a good time if it sat on his face."

Arthur slammed his hand down on Francis' to stop it moving across his thigh. Enough was enough. There was only so much he could put up with. "Driver, we'll get out here!" He called out. The limo parked beside the pavement. "Use a condom, boys," Arthur remarked coolly as he and Elizaveta got out of the car and then slammed the door closed behind them.

Gilbert huffed in defeat but Francis wasn't going to let the Brit get away from him that easily. He opened up the sun roof and stood up on the seat. "One drink!" he called out, "I'm a pretty fun guy! You can ask around!"

Without knowing why, Arthur stopped in his tracks and looked back at Francis. Meeting that smile with an icy look, Arthur replied, "Thanks, but we have dinner reservations. And we have to map out our assault on the strip." He turned his back on Francis again and walked off with Elizaveta a few steps ahead of him.

Francis laughed at that statement. "You have a plan to make plans?" What else could he expect from an uptight Englishman?!

The laughter pierced through Arthur's patience and he rounded on Francis again. "Excuse me?!"

Francis tapped his cheek and surveyed Arthur who looked uncomfortable under his gaze. The smile grew. "I bet you look really good with your hair down."

"…. My hair is short."

"One drink, mon lapin. I dare you."

"…." Ignoring the protests of Elizaveta behind him, Arthur stormed back into the limo. He'll show that bloody git he knew how to have a good time! Sighing, Elizaveta followed after him. Someone had to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

* * *

She soon regretted her decision. The drinks were good, and the music was alright for a typical nightclub, but she was stuck with the loud mouth German speaking idiot who was trying to charm a couple of girls who were leaning against the balcony near their table. She mindlessly looked through her phone while listening to the terrible pick-up lines he was trying to use.

"Did I invent hip-hop? No. But I was there."

A few tables down from them, Francis had ordered a couple of drinks for him and Arthur. He couldn't stop smiling at the fact that he had persuaded him to have a couple of drinks but, of course, no one could resist his charms for very long. He waited until Arthur down a shot before taking a sip himself. "So, Arthur," the name rolling nicely off his tongue with his heavy accent, "What brings you to Sin City?"

Arthur waved a hand in the air as he reached out for the bottle again. "You know, just being spontaneous, cutting loose, like everyone else. What about yourself?"

Francis leant back in his seat and looked over across the nightlife in the city from the balcony. He hardly doubted Arthur was the kind to travel all the way to Vegas in attempt to have a good time like many normal people would. "I'm here on business; big business. I'm... I'm a pretty important guy in my field."

"Really?" Arthur said sarcastically, not believing that crap for a minute. Yeah, because he would believe that Francis was the kind to be an important guy in any business.

"…No," Francis admitted, moving back to the table to pick up his glass. "I just got fired…. So... A votre sante!" He raised his glass.

Arthur watched him for a minute before smirking and raising his own glass. "I just got dumped. So cheers!"

Francis shook his head. A typical love story gone bad, mon dieu, he would have felt bad for Arthur if he honestly cared much for him. Not to be outdone, he bluntly added, "Did I mention that I got fired by my boss-slash-father?" Ah, there was the touch of bitterness in his voice at that. Maybe the drink was loosening his tongue already.

The Brit snorted and drained another shot. What a woeful story indeed – or not. "Did I mention that I threw a surprise birthday party for my fiancé and the surprise was that he dumped me in front of all of our closest friends while they hid in the closet?"

"…." Wow. That would have hurt. Maybe he was outdone there. He smiled apologetically. "Okay, you win." But since they were now being honest, Francis raised his hand to capture a barmaid's attention. "Excusez-moi, but we're going to need another bottle."

"I saved a baby today. I'm not a hero, though."

"…." Elizaveta had placed her phone away. Sadly, the damn idiot she was with wasn't going to quit until someone gave him some praise and attention. The two girls by the balcony were only just now beginning to smile at him, though it was more out of amusement than interest.

"You know what I mean? I'm not a –"

"He's married," Elizaveta said sweetly to the two ladies. Ha! That would shut him up!

Gilbert's smile went. But he smirked seconds later. He motioned over to her and grinned at the ladies. "This is my lesbian sister." He laughed. That was the perfect comeback, if he said so himself. "Keseses, tell them about your softball game."

Frowning at him, Elizaveta collected up her handbag and left but not before clipping Gilbert about the head when she passed him.

* * *

After the bar, Francis persuaded a tipsy Arthur to go with him to the casino next door. It was hosted out in the night air so the cold wind helped keep sober. He had been surprised at just how much Arthur had drunk; it was more surprising that Arthur was still on his feet. But the biggest surprise was how much more fun Arthur suddenly seemed to be.

The Brit cheered loudly and picked up the dice. "What do you say we bet 10-to-1, with £125 on the hard eight?"

Francis chuckled and shook his head. "I wouldn't bet on me winning." He had some of the worst luck in the world. "You roll, mon lapin ~"

Arthur grinned and shook the dice in his fist then tossed them across the table. "Go 44!"

Francis blinked as the dice rolled with the fours facing up. How the…?

* * *

It took a good hour at the casino before Arthur declared he had won enough to hit another night club. The break from drinking had sobered him down but it wouldn't last as Francis found himself being pulled over to another club. By now, the moon was high and everyone was getting into the mood of the late night Vegas fever. Red light lit up the room and crowds of people were dancing and drinking to the terrible music.

Unable to control himself, Francis had got into the drinking habit now. Though it was clear Arthur hadn't finished showing off just yet. Francis watched with caution had Arthur ran over with a knife and a bottle in his hand.

"This is my party trick!" The tipsy Brit yelled out louder than he intended to. In one swift movement, Arthur had uncorked the bottle by bringing the knife along the slender neck of the bottle.

Francis cheered. "Stupéfiant! But watch this!" He took the bottle from the loud Brit and tipped it out over the pyramid of wineglasses. Arthur gasped in delight at the waterfall effect the champagne had.

* * *

Arthur was standing upon the tables, swaying terribly while the crowd cheered on his actions. "To everyone who's ever been dumped," a loud cheer rose from the crowds, "and to everyone who has ever been fired," Francis cheered loudly with them, "When I say, "Screw!" you say, "You!"!"

"Screw!"

"You!"

"Screw!"

"You!"

* * *

"You know, you were right about me…"

"Oui, mon lapin." Francis sighed, the strong slur in his voice was nothing compared to the Brit's. The music was beginning to give him a huge headache now but being able to have his arm around Arthur made up for that. "It's like you're trying to come in first but its somebody else's race."

Arthur raised his empty glass to his lips, taking an imaginary slip before leaning closer to Francis. "You never felt good enough, so you took yourself out of the game…"

Francis nodded; taking another gulp of… he didn't even know anymore. It had a sharp kick to it and that was all that mattered. "I think I just got to the point where I wasn't even trying," he admitted.

"Why should you try?" Arthur frowned. "I work 80 hours a week and I don't even know why."

Francis looked down at the drunk in his arms. Arthur was looking directly back up at him. "… I'm not usually this honest." He smiled faintly.

"…I'm usually not this fun." Arthur laughed as he poked Francis in the ribs. "The best part is…We can really talk."

"Really connect ~"

"Yeah, 'cause you're like the last person on the planet I'd ever sleep with!" Arthur laughed again and raised his empty glass in cheers.

"Ever!" Francis agreed, clinking his glass and Arthur's together.

Everything was a huge blur afterwards.

* * *

Elizaveta screamed loudly as she fell into the pool with Gilbert latched around her waist. An elderly gentleman was smiling with a strong white background behind him. Arthur yelled in delight from the sunroof of the car. Francis was dancing upon the bar counter. More drinks were passed around. Water was splashed everywhere. Gilbert was dancing around in a bra he had found. Lights were flashing. The wind was whipping through their hair. Arthur and Francis tangled up in each other's arms as they fought to dominate the kiss on the way to the hotel room.


	3. Chapter 3

This was not how he expected the first night of Vegas to go. Well, actually, that was a lie. This was very close to how he pictured it to be. The throbbing headache and the blurred vision was exactly what he thought he would experience. He groaned and rolled over on the bed and raised the covers over his head to block out the intense light coming through the window.

The bed was very warm. He didn't want to leave it. The covers were almost plastered to his sweaty bare skin in a manner that caused him to snuggle up further. Wait. Arthur blinked and slowly dared himself to look down. He was completely naked. Not only that but the remains of last night also clung to his stomach. He swallowed and pulled the quilt down to cover up.

He didn't recognise the room he was in. It wasn't the one that he and Elizaveta shared. Arthur pushed himself up and looked around. His clothing was scattered across the floor and bottom of the bed. Only his clothing, he noticed. The person he shared last night must have already left. Great. Terrific. He was a result of a one night stand.

Arthur fell back onto the bed and placed a hand to his sweaty brow. Then blinked and lowered his hand. A heart shaped mark was crudely scribbled onto it reading '4 Francis'. He paled. No. No. No!

The Brit sat up and, ignoring the nausea feeling that followed, frantically rubbed the marking. Please don't let it be real, he pleaded. He already had a tattoo from his rebellious years and did not need another one - especially one that said that! At least he knew the partner in question now. He'll murder the bastard if he could yet the second glance at his other hand only made him panic more.

Sitting there upon his finger was a fake diamond encrusted ring that looked as though it came from a cheap fruit machine game. This had to be a terrible trick, right? Did Elizaveta set them up to this? He climbed out of bed and went to pick up his boxers when he noticed the note pinned to the bedside table.

_Bonjour husband, we're at the buffet. Francis x_

And, as if by magic, everything from the previous night returned to him. The Brit fell back onto the bed and began to swear and curse with all his might as he lashed out on the pillows.

* * *

Francis was still pale as he moved along the buffet line. His usual bright appearance had dulled since he discovered what they had done. The empty plate was shaking slightly in his hand. His arse was still sore from the night before but he could easily ignore that in light of the bigger problem at hand. How could he have screwed up so badly on the very first night? Did bad luck follow him everywhere or was he just the favourite target to victimise?

"You can't get divorced here, okay? You gotta do it where you live. Besides, you don't want a divorce, all right? You want an annulment," Gilbert explained as he piled up his plate with practically everything he saw. He loved his food and, even though it was all blending together into a big gooey mess, was not going to miss out on anything. Unlike his friend who turned his nose up at the inferior food.

The Frenchman pulled a face when he watched Gilbert drop several half cooked pieces of bacon onto his plate. "See, what happens in Vegas, you pay for when you get back home," Gilbert added with a chuckle.

* * *

If Arthur looked hungover, it was nothing compared to Elizabeta. He managed to track her down back at their room and his ranting did not cease the whole time they were together. She rested her head against the lift's wall and closed her eyes. The motion of the lift made her stomach turn repeatedly and she had given up on detangling her hair the moment the Brit had stumbled into her room.

"Was there any part of the night, I don't know, maybe, say, the part where I was about to marry the rebound guy, that you thought, "Hey, oh my God! "This is a really good time for an intervention"?" Arthur repeated for the third time as he nervously fiddled with the ring on his finger.

"Seriously?" Elizaveta sighed and looked over at him with a blank expression. "I threw up in my own purse, so..."

Arthur groaned and placed his face into his hands. Never before had the urge to sink into the ground and vanish from sight been so strong.

* * *

Francis and Gilbert were sitting at a table when Francis noticed the hungover two walking towards them. He nodded his head in their direction before taking a sip of his juice to calm his nerves. After last night, he was not going to be touching alcohol for a long while. Gilbert was too busy eating to look up at the two who sat down next to them.

"Morning..." Arthur said in a tired voice. Most of his anger was spent on the bed and Elizabeta was the unfortunate one who had to endure his endless cursing and muttering. Now he was tired out and just wanted to get this awkward situation over with.

The three muttered 'good morning' in reply and then fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Arthur looked across the table at the plates of breakfast. He did not feel hungry in the slightest but there was something that every Englishman needed at the beginning of the day. "I could use some tea..."

Francis smiled faintly and did not hesitate to push over his drink and plate. "What's mine is yours," he joked weakly causing the others to laugh just as weakly. The Frenchman poured out some coffee for himself and drank before the water was cool enough to. His tongue was burnt but it felt rather nice in comparison to everything else.

"It looks good..." Arthur said in another poor attempt to make the atmosphere less thick as he munched on the left over bacon slices. He had the rest of the juice too. Unlike Francis, he would have given anything to have a shot or two to steady his nerves.

Elizaveta reached out for Gilbert's plate and picked up half a croissant. Gilbert frowned and took it out of her hand before squeezing it into a pulp. Clearly, last night was also lingering in his mind. The Hungarian frowned at him.

"Yeah. It's very good. It's ridiculously good. The orange juice is good." Francis ranted on like an idiot. "I don't usually like pulp. Are you a fan?"

"Not really..." Enough with the small talk. Arthur stood up and looked at his 'husband'. "Francis, can I talk to you for a second? In private?"

Francis nodded and got to his feet. He didn't even bother to finish off his coffee as he then followed Arthur away from the hotel's dining room. Gilbert whistled after them and then grinned over at his newest companion. "They're so cute together!"

Elizaveta kept the same annoyed expression at him. "If I could make someone dead with my mind, it would be you."

* * *

Arthur had chickened out at the last moment and ran out of sight of the Frenchman. He went over to casino next door and decided to play a couple of rounds on a fruit machine to clam himself down. He tried to form a speech in his mind about what he should say and do to tackle the situation. Unfortunately for him, Francis couldn't wait till then and had hunted around for the Brit.

"There you are..." Francis sighed as he wandered over to Arthur's side. He rested against the fruit machine Arthur was playing at and looked down as the fruits spun around. "About last night... It was a great night. I mean, you are a lot of fun, Arthur." There was it again. His flirtatious side was coming out. He couldn't deny that _that_ part of last night had been terrific. The Brit was wild in bed and it had been a long time since he enjoyed himself so much.

"I am?" Arthur asked in a surprised voice as he dropped his hand from the one arm bandit.

"Yeah! A lot of fun. That... I mean, last night was so great. Actually, you know, there was like..." Francis laughed nervously and looked down at Arthur's ringed finger. "Maybe there was one tiny little thing..."

They both laughed awkwardly as Arthur held up his hand and looked at his ring. "I think I know what you mean..." It was easier to laugh at it then anything else and, having the weird sense of humour he did, it was a piece of cake too now the shock had worn away.

Francis took a deep breath and then flashed Arthur a smile. He had done this many times before so knew just how to handle it. Well... almost. "Okay, this... There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to -"

"Wait. Are... Are you …. dumping me?" Arthur cut in. This was a great week for him. Dumped twice. Was this going to be a growing trend?

Francis' smile vanished. "You... didn't?" he asked, unsure what he was questioning exactly.

"No!" Arthur said quickly in his defence. "I was coming down here to dump you!" Sweet relief though. At least this wasn't going to be a mistake he had to live with. They can now plan on getting a divorce and move on with their lives with nothing more to do with each other. It was a good plan. An ideal plan!

"Oh!" Francis sighed in relief. That was a close call. Dumping someone was easy but to dump a husband would have been harder if Arthur thought all this was for real. Lucky for him that wasn't the case. "Okay, so we're good!"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, disaster averted!"

"You said it!"

"Bullet dodged!"

"You bet!"

"I mean, pooch unscrewed! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!" Francis could have wept with joy.

Arthur's relief and good humour was crushed as he glared sharply at the Frenchman. "Okay. I got it, okay? Got it," he snapped. How many times was he going to hear this? Did the bastard enjoy making him relive the trauma over and over?

"Okay. I'm sorry." Francis smiled apologetically. "I... You just seem like the type of guy who's looking for a serious relationship, and I'm not that... I mean, you... Like... No offence, but you seem like a lot of work. Like it would take, like, a team of guys, and I'm not... Marriages are an outdated concept..." He could tell by the Brit's expression that he had crossed the line and should have shut up many sentences ago.

"Are you dumping me _**again**_?"

Francis ran his hand through his blonde locks and straightened up. Fuck, he balls this up again. "I'm in a really weird place right now..."

"Where's that, Francis? The starting line?" Arthur asked darkly as the air around him become intimidating. "Because I have news for you, git. The gun went off a long time ago."

Francis blinked and looked back at him in shock. But the Frenchman was not going to be spoken to like that and was very quick to bite back in an equally annoyed tone. "Look at that! Good luck with the job, huh? "Employee handles criticism poorly!""

"Well, then maybe you should teach the subject, Francis, considering you can't even keep a job with your own father!" Arthur said angrily as the two glared daggers at each other. "You know, the one person who's biologically programmed to love you, and even he can't stand you!"

Ouch. That touched a nerve. Francis straightened up and moved closer to Arthur as their argument grew louder with every word. "Look at that. You had to come all the way to Vegas and marry a complete stranger just to prove that you're not a robot. Congratulations, Arthur! That was a feeling!"

"Oh, I have a feeling, all right! It's called nausea!" Arthur snapped as his hands balled into fists. It took a lot of self-control not to break off into a physical fight with this bloody prick!

"Yeah?" Francis sneered as he mocked Arthur in a terrible accent, ""Oh, I have a feeling, all right! It's called nausea!""

"How old are you, five?" Arthur spat out furiously.

"Sept, actually. J'ai sept ans!" Francis snapped back with venom coating his words. He rarely lost his temper this easily but there was just something about that Englishman that made him want to strangle the life out of him. "You know, this is why we'd never work. 'Cause I could never, ever be with someone that's so completely broken!"

"Broken?!" Arthur snarled. At this point they were barely inches away from each other. Their hands were tightly gripping hold of the other's shirt. Passer-bys were cautiously watching in case a fight did break out. "You know what? You don't even know me, mister!"

"No, I don't know you, and I got a feeling that neither do you." Francis pushed Arthur back. "You know what? I'll call you about the annulment."

"How about this?" Arthur pulled out a business card from his wallet and pushed it against Francis' chest with more pressure than he should have. The Frenchman stumbled back against the fruit machine but Arthur didn't care. "Why don't you just e-mail me?!" He growled as he turned on his heels and stormed off.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey!" Francis yelled after him as he took a coin from the pot that Arthur had been using on the fruit machine. "We'll always have Vegas! ~"

"That's my quarter!" Arthur glared as Francis kissed the coin and slipped it into the machine before pulling the lever. Not caring for the bastard anymore, Arthur turned his back on him again and walked off. Francis followed his lead but they had only gone a few paces when a loud siren sounded out behind them from the machine.

Stunned, they turned around and looked at the machine. '$3,000,000' was flashing above it in neon letters. Francis barely had time to recognise the win as his own when he was suddenly tackled down to the ground by Gilbert who had watched the whole thing from the sidelines.

Equally shocked, Arthur remained frozen to the spot as Elizaveta rushed over to his side. A crowd formed around them. The casino was filled with mixed cheering and clapping with the siren almost drowned out by it all. Gilbert jumped around and constantly clung to Francis who was taking the chance to pose for the cameras that came to take his picture.

Elizaveta pulled Arthur over to the fruit machine as two men in suits arrived on the scene with a giant cheque in their hands. They shook hands with the two winners and Arthur and Francis both took hold of each end.

Noticing his 'partner' holding onto _his _cheque, Francis laughed falsely and tossed over a dollar to Arthur. "Thanks for the quarter, you just quadrupled your investment!"

Arthur slapped Francis hand away and frowned at him. "What, you think this is all yours?"

Oh dear. Francis could see where this was going. He frowned back and tugged sharply on the cheque. "Yes, it's mine. I put the quarter in the machine and I pulled the lever."

Arthur tugged it back. "**My** quarter on the machine that **I** was using, the one I loosened up for you!" He argued back.

Francis pulled the cheque out of Arthur's hands and smiled in a gloating manner as he tucked it under his arm. "That's right! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a giant colourful cheque to deposit!"

The Englishman watched the Frenchman walk off before calling out to him with another dark smile. "Whatever happened to "What's mine is yours," _darling?" _He held up his hand as Francis slowly turned around with a horrified expression. "We're married now, **remember**?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was no surprise that the very first thing they did once they got back to New York was to arrange an annulment. They both made an effort not to see each other after they broke into a fight at the airport and almost got kicked off their flight back home. Gilbert and Elizaveta was equally pleased to see the last of each other. In fact, none of them came face to face again until the day of the court. Elizaveta was the only one who sat in the back to watch the drama unfurl.

Francis fidgeted in his seat and tugged on his tie to loosen it. He hated wearing suits. They did nothing for him at all. It was horrible having to wear one but Gilbert advised him that it would be important to look smart rather than pretty for this judge. He dropped his hand onto the desk and looked up at his lawyer / friend.

Gilbert was standing beside him, trying his hardest to look profession as he made their case. "More importantly, Your Honour, my client only knew Mr Kirkland for four hours before they "got married," three and a half of which were spent in a state of total inebriation."

The Frenchman looked back up at the judge. It was clear to why Gilbert made him wear the ugly monkey suit. The judge was so stern looking that it almost frightened him. It wasn't until afterwards would he learn that the judge was none other than Gilbert's younger brother.

Ludwig was looking as though he was pressured into this. Possibly Gilbert thought that having a strong connection to the judge would benefit them but Francis could see that this was not going to be happening. Ludwig was getting more impatient as the minutes ticked by and was barely listening to Gilbert's speeches. Why, oh why, did he allow the silver haired idiot to do this?

"You. Other one." Judge Ludwig said sternly as he looked over at Arthur. "You have any evidence that you both knowingly entered into this marriage, that it's not just a sham?"

Alright, so Francis lied a little. Suits didn't suit him nor Gilbert, but Arthur looked as though he was made for them. That didn't surprise him that much though, he thought as he snorted, that uptight rosbif wouldn't be able to get away with anything else.

Unaware of the Frenchman's thoughts, Arthur stood up and looked down at his collection of 'evidence' he and Elizaveta spent the previous days collecting together. "Let me see... Would a note do?" he picked up a plastic bag that held a napkin inside. Clearly written upon it in handwriting that would only have been Francis' was 'Francis + Arthur = 4ever'.

"It's a start."

Arthur held the note out across the table to purposely show it off in Francis' direction whilst tapping it with his pen. Francis and Gilbert exchanged a glance as Arthur then lowered the note and turned around to pick up a large canvas from behind his chair. "And then there's a photo..." He grunted as he placed it on the table and turned it around. Printed onto it was an enlarged photograph of him and Francis hugging underneath a casino sign.

Ludwig nodded in approval and Francis shrunk back in his chair, purposely avoiding looking at the photo that Arthur turned towards them. This was not going well for him. It did not help either that Gilbert was now hunting through his notes whilst muttering, "I didn't know anything about that..." Just how much did Arthur save from the Vegas trip?

He soon found out when Arthur picked up a remote and walked out from behind his desk to down on a television that had been brought into the room. "And there's also a video." The Brit turned it on.

The image came up on the screen of the married couple clinging to each other outside the wedding chapel. Francis was swaying slightly as he ignored Arthur's kisses along his neck. He was too busy smiling at the camera and winking. "And I am going to provide for him, I'm gonna love him," he said in a slurred voice, "and I'm going to provide for him, 'cause we're married!"

"Married!" Arthur cheered on the video.

The two were pushed apart as a drunk Gilbert appeared on the screen, grinning idiotically at the camera. "We're all gonna get laid!" he yelled out as further screams followed.

The video was paused and Arthur smirked in an arrogant manner over at Francis and Gilbert. He was very confident he had won this now.

Ludwig was looking further annoyed by this case as he looked over at Gilbert. "Was that you, Beilschmidt? His lawyer?"

Gilbert coughed and looked away from the television. "I didn't... I don't have my glasses on..."

The Judge sighed and slammed his hands down impatiently on the table so they all jumped in alarm. "I don't like you. I don't like any of you," he half shouted across the room as he glared at them all. "Gay people aren't destroying the sanctity of marriage, you people are. Marriage is about love and commitment. Listen, I've been married for 5 years to the same wonderful, infuriating Italian, and granted, there are days when I want to light him on fire, but I don't, because I love him, and that would be illegal. And you know something? I might be old-fashioned, but when I said those vows out loud, I meant them."

Gilbert covered up his mic before leaning towards Francis to whisper "he's being a douche today." Personally, Francis could think of other words that would better suit the judge but did not dare to speak out.

"Before, or should I say if I ever allow either of you out of this marriage, I'm going to make sure that you try everything, and I do mean everything, first to make it work."

Arthur and Francis stood up at the same time and protested. "Objection!" "You can't do this!"

"Watch me," Ludwig said threateningly. "Now, do either one of you have a place to live?"

Arthur shook his head. "I don't at the moment, Your Honour, but I will. You see, I... My ex-fiancé and I broke up, and..."

The judge cut across his rambles. "You know, Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy, you're not helping make your case here, okay?" Arthur nodded and quickly sat down in silence. Ludwig turned his attention to the Frenchman. "What about you, pretty boy? You got a place?"

Francis nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Good! We have a place! I am freezing the $3 million for the next six months and sentencing you two to six months hard marriage," Francis and Arthur exchanged a dark look, "And so I can keep an eye on you, I'm ordering you both into weekly marital counselling. I want you two to listen to me. You better play by my rules on this, or I'm gonna tie this money up in litigation that is so long, so protracted, so expensive that neither one of you will ever see a dime of it!" Ludwig barked out across the room. "One more thing. I now pronounce you man and husband!"

* * *

Francis was cursing and fuming in his native language on the steps of the building. Gilbert, who didn't understand a word of French, sat on a step and watched his friend dramatically work out his anger. Eventually he calmed down long enough to drop down next to Gilbert and cling to his shirt with tearful eyes. "Can he do that?!" Maybe it was a joke! Any moment now cameras will come out of their hiding places and a presenter will appear stating it was all a terrible prank.

Sadly, that wasn't going to happen. Gilbert nodded as he removed his tie. His big plan had failed again but he was only too use to losing his cases. He didn't recall a single one that he had won before. "Yeah, he's the judge. He can do whatever he wants." His own brother too!

"You didn't do anything in there! You didn't do anything!" Francis wailed as he shook Gilbert back and forth. "I should have begged my father for a lawyer! Oh no, my father can't ever know! I'll be dishonoured and removed from the family!"

Gilbert awkwardly patted the top of Francis' head. "He clearly wants to make an example out of you both!"

They weren't the only ones who were unhappy. Elizaveta and Arthur had watched Francis' performance from the top of the stairs. Arthur was glaring at him with distaste whilst Elizaveta tried to clear things up on what could be done. "If you just do what the guy says, he's gonna be forced to grant you a divorce. In which case," she stood in front of Arthur to regain his attention, "You would probably split the money equally as marital property."

Arthur nodded and looked back at her. "I can do this. How bad can it be to leave with the pompous frog for six months? Work will keep me away from him for most of the day." Besides, if he wanted that promotion he could attempt to work extra hours. It would be stressful and difficult to find time for himself but it would the better option out of the two.

Elizaveta nodded and turned around to see Francis and Gilbert ascending up the steps. Francis purposely stepped up so he was on the same level as Arthur and smiled as sweetly as he could at him. He clearly recovered from his minor breakdown earlier. He was now back to the arrogant flirtatious prick that Arthur loathed. "I can do anything for six months. I can not wear pants for six months. So if you aren't up to it... ~"

The Brit made a sound of disgust and crossed his arms over his chest. "I am so up to it. And if you're trying to insinuate that I'm the one that can't do this, then you are sorely mistaken, bastard."

Gilbert laughed and pushed himself in-between them. They had only known each other for a couple of days but that was enough for him to learn when a fight was on its way. "Okay! So it's settled, then. Think of it as a business arrangement. Be married for six months, get $1.5 million!" He held out his hands to encourage the married couple to shake hands but neither moved.

Francis smiled and kept his gaze locked upon Arthur's. "How hard can it be?"

"I know how hard it isn't." Arthur smirked as he and Elizaveta walked off down the steps laughing before Francis could register what was said.

* * *

It took a couple of hours for Arthur and Elizaveta to collect Arthur's belongings from Kiku's apartment. Thankfully, the Japanese man wasn't there and Arthur took the chance to drop off his keys too. He didn't bother to leave a note. What could he say? _Sorry, I'm married to an idiot I got drunk with whilst in Vegas._ Yeah, that would look good.

Arthur sighed and rested his head against the car window of the taxi. He had removed the ring Francis gave him and it was safely held within his wallet. The far more elegant engagement ring was still resting upon his finger though. He was now wearing it mostly to piss off Francis. He closed his eyes for what felt like a fleeting moment when Elizaveta nudged him awake and pointed out of the window. "We're here."

"Great..." Arthur said sarcastically.

The taxi pulled over and Arthur tossed him a few notes before stepping out. Elizaveta assisted him with the luggage (where did she get that strength from?) and carried it over to the flats' entrance. Arthur rang the buzzer and waited to be allowed inside. Elizaveta tucked a couple of boxes under her arm and took out her mobile phone and began to record the whole session. She was not going to risk getting even the most smallest piece of evidence that would help them win the jackpot (yes, she had been promised a percentage).

* * *

"He's here," Francis said nervously as he turned towards Gilbert. Immediately, all their planning vanished from his mind. This was beginning to feel more real than it did back in the courtroom. He really was going to be stuck with that foul mouthed despicable Englishman. Gilbert only shrugged and opened the door before pushing Francis out.

Arthur and Elizaveta were already reaching the top of the stairwell when the two walked out to greet them. Arthur smiled in a way that Francis hadn't seen before. He half excepted the Brit was going to pull him into a hug but instead he got a bottle knocked into his stomach.

"Hey! Look what I brought my new hubby! 'Cause I want to please him, and Frenchmen, they like their wine ~" Arthur smiled sweetly to the camera Elizaveta was holding up.

"Look who's being a good hubby, really trying to make his marriage work," Elizaveta encouraged as she gave him the thumbs up.

Taking the hint, Gilbert quickly took out his phone and pressed the record button as well. Waiting for his signal, Francis then responded by squeezing Arthur into a tight hug that made him splutter. "Oh, mon chou, magnifique! I'm going to buy you a big box of Early Grey just so I can thank you!" He winked over at Elizaveta's camera. "Because that's what good husbands do!" He held out the wine bottle for Gilbert to take then pressed his lips over Arthur's in a rough and out-of-character snog.

Arthur panicked and dropped his luggage. He had no idea how to responded to this! He tried to walk back only to have Francis grab him around the waist to keep him near. His face slowly went a bright red.

The kiss was broken a minute, a very long minute, later. Francis kept Arthur close and smirked at the cameras. "Sorry, I can't control myself when I'm around you. I just love you so much!" That was probably the only action he was going to get in the next six months so he might as well take the chance while he could! There was no regret in his action.

Until Arthur flared up and grabbed the front of his trousers in a tight grip. "Not as much as **I **love **you**!"

Francis yelped in minor pain but masked it by pulling the Brit up into his arms in a bridal style hold. "Shall we, Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy?" he asked and, without waiting for a response, carried the enraged Arthur into his room.

Gilbert and Elizaveta watched them leave before turning off their phones. It would be highly comical if the money wasn't put on the line. Elizaveta sighed and picked up the boxes that Arthur had dropped. Gilbert perked up and knelt down to help her. "Oh. Here. Let me get this!" Then accidentally knocked the box out of her hands and down the steps. "... Whoops?" he smiled nervously as Elizaveta glared at him.

The second they were in his living room, Francis dropped Arthur down on the rug and stepped over him without a care. "Sorry, mon chou, just you're a little on the heavy side. Welcome home!" He threw open his arms and looked around his cosy little place. It wasn't how he wanted his home to be but once he got his money he'll be back in Paris designing all the fashion trends he wanted.

Arthur grunted as he picked himself up off the floor. He looked around at the tight room and crossed his arms over his chest. He was not impressed at all. If there had been an effort to make the place look like an old aristocrat's then it was buried beneath the amount of rubbish lying around; fabrics and ribbons were only the beginning of it.

Gilbert and Elizaveta entered the room. The boxes were dropped down beside the door. Arthur sighed and walked over to his friend. "I can do this..." he muttered to himself. "I ran the London Marathon. I can do this." He inched over to the bathroom to examine that and his face paled at his discovery. The bathroom was littered with dirty linguine from former girlfriends, condom wrappers, and split lube bottles. "Bloody hell, I can't do this!"

Francis placed his hands on Arthur's slender waist and looked over his shoulder into the room. "Don't throw any of it away, oui? I'm saving it all up to make a scrap book."

Gilbert laughed as Arthur elbowed Francis in the gut and walked back over to the door, looking highly repulsed. Francis recovered and rubbed his sore stomach and chuckled. Their plan to drive the Brit to insanity was already beginning to have positive effects for them.

"Do you train monkeys in here? Seriously!" Arthur ranted as he rubbed his hands over his shirt in case he touched anything that made have been infected with... he didn't want to know! "It's one thing if you like a guy, you put up with disgusting stuff like this, but you I don't care for, so clean it up!" He said sternly to the Frenchman.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Gilbert clapped Francis on the back. "I'm not here under court order, so I'm going to take off." He rushed out of the room to avoid being dragged into tidying the mess they purposely made.

Elizaveta dug out a packet of wipes and pressed them into Arthur's hands. "Remember the $1.5 million. These are antibacterial. Get to work."

Arthur nodded weakly as she too left and stared around at the mess. This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

It was cold in the flat when night came. Arthur's muscles were sore from the endless amount of cleaning and unpacking he was forced to endure because a certain Frenchman refused to help him. To be honest, it was probably better if he did nothing because Arthur had no doubt Francis would only sabotage all his hard work. Now, all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and try to gain some peace of mind in his sleep.

Francis took out a quilt from a cupboard and dropped it down on the sofa. Arthur was not going to be the one to be forced onto that horrible bumpy thing when he had worked so hard all day. "That looks like it's gonna be comfortable for you. Where's the bedroom?" He hadn't spotted a door that lead to the bedroom despite his cleaning. Did this place even have a bedroom? It was so small that it wouldn't surprise him if it didn't.

Francis blinked and then shrugged and pointed towards a door a short distance behind the Brit. "It's in there."

Suspicious of this non-existent argument about sleeping arrangements, Arthur rolled his eyes and turned his back on his husband. "Sweet dreams."

"Oui, Bonne nuit."

Arthur opened the door and barely leapt aside in time when a folded bed dropped down on him. He yelped and turned his glare back to Francis who pouted at the near miss. "Ooo, that was so close!"

"That stinks," Arthur said in disgust as he looked at the pile of blankets dumped on top of it. Along with, he noticed sickeningly, unwashed clothing from previous 'accounts' on the bed.

"Just a little bit of me," Francis said cheerfully and dropped down onto his sofa bed. "And some other people ~"

Arthur almost cried out. Now there was even more cleaning he had to do?! That bastard was going to wake up to find his food all poisoned!

* * *

It had gone midnight and Francis was woken by the sound of something falling and swearing. The blond yawned and sat up to look at what was happening now. The room smelt of a horrid mix of air freshener and vanilla scented candles. He scrunched up his nose and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the candles.

Arthur was spraying every inch of the bed, covers, sheets, and pillow with the freshener. No sooner had he pushed the quilt aside though did he noticed another pair of old pants tucked away in the bottom of the bed. He groaned and dropped down to his knees in silent defeat. Francis had to give him so credit for going on this long.

"Do you need some help?"

Arthur nodded slowly and refused to meet his gaze. "Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact."

"You should probably call somebody to help you," Francis said smugly as he laid back down on the sofa and curled up in his pleasantly warm quilt. That was until the air-freshener hit his forehead.


	5. Chapter 5

The vanilla aroma lingered on till morning. Francis inhaled a deep breath of it and smiled faintly. It wasn't so bad when it wasn't completely overwhelming him. He sighed. Maybe it was only a dream. He must have had a long soak in the bath and woke in the middle of the night to collapse on the sofa. Good thing too for he was having a bizarre dream where he married a grumpy Englishman. Yes... It was all just a terrible dre -

WWWWWHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEWWWW

Francis bolted upright in a frantic scare. He pulled the covers tightly over himself and looked around for the source of the sound.

And there he was. The source of his nightmares: the bushy eyebrows Englishman. Arthur was lifting an old fashioned kettle from the oven. That explained where the high pitch whistling came from. "Tea?" Arthur asked him cheerfully as he poured out the boiling water into a mug.

Francis covered his ears to block out the whistling and sobbed into his pillow.

* * *

Francis soon learnt never to touch anything made by Arthur. He couldn't decide if it was intentional or not but when he saw the food placed in front of him, he was certain there was a smirk on the Brit's face that read 'I'll poison you and make it look like an accident'. Either that, or Francis was getting seriously paranoid. A quick visit to the bathroom afterwards, and his mind was made – he was never going to eat any British cooking again in his life.

Drying his mouth with the corner of the towel, the sick Frenchman emerged from the bathroom to see Arthur tugged his trousers over his pants. Smirking, Francis could not resist a mocking whistle.

Arthur scowled at him and quickly done up his flies then pulled on a jacket to cover up. "Freak."

"Where do you get your underwear?" Francis bit back just as fast, "The hospital?"

"What?"

Francis shrugged, keeping his eyes upon Arthur. "In the beginning it's all laces and rainbows and sexy lingerie. As soon as you get married, it's nothing but these flesh tones and granny wear." Yet another reason why Francis could not settle in a relationship – the honeymoon period never last. "You might as well wear a plaque around your neck that says, 'We're not having sex, ever.'"

"Ever," Arthur threatened, picking up the flat keys Francis reluctantly had copied for him. "Don't even dream of it or I'll butcher you in your sleep."

There was a lovely image. Francis winched and then sighed, having too much fun pressing Arthur's buttons to stop now. "What happened to the boxers from Vegas? They were nice."

"I'm saving them for my non-retarded husband." He swung a bag over his shoulder and moved towards the door. "The grown-ups have to go to work today." Suspicious of what may happen while he was away, Arthur turned towards his husband and frowned. "What are you going to do all day?"

Francis shrugged. He never planned a lot for it depended very much on what his current mood was like. At the moment, he felt like cooking up a real breakfast. "I don't know yet. I'd rather do nothing and be happy than do something I know I don't love."

Scoffing at the philosophy, Arthur opened the door. "Words to live by."

"Tell the man I say hi," Francis mockingly waved. "And don't get hit by a bus." Hearing the slam of the door, he leant back against the counter and smirked. "Or do."

* * *

Arthur couldn't keep focused. He gazed at the computer screen, feeling his on-going headache growing, but not able to read the messages. What was Francis doing? What if work found out about his screw-up? No, this wasn't a screw-up. This was a life-ruiner. He would have to tread carefully. Oh, he was so hoping to get the promotion! All the hard work was going to be for nothing now because of that blond tosser!

Groaning, Arthur sank down in his chair and gripped his hair. No, he was getting paranoid. He managed to keep his personal life separate from work since the beginning so there was no reason for this to -

_Riiiiiiing_

His head slowly lifted up to see the cheap old phone vibrating across his desk. If Francis found his office number... No, don't be silly. Francis didn't know where he worked. Feeling relieved, he picked it up and heard the obnoxious tone of his boss.

"Hey, Artie! Bring your fanny up here! Quick!"

How a git like him managed to control a big company was beyond Arthur. Deciding it was best not to call him on the use of the word 'fanny' - being an English**man**, Arthur certainly did not have one - he pushed himself away from the desk and placed the phone down.

* * *

He wasn't the only one called to the office. Arthur noted with some displeasure that Yao was also standing by the desk. The two exchanged angry looks which went completely unnoticed by the grinning American spinning around on the chair. Seeing Arthur's arrival, he dug his heel into the ground and skidded to a halt. "There you are! Good news! After 15 years of loyal service, we're dumping Bob whatshisname, which means that this office is gonna be up for grabs. So, I'm going to promote one of you. You're my top guns. Do me proud."

"Thank you, sir."

Wonderful. Just what he needed. Competition over something that he rightfully deserved.

* * *

Francis waited outside the building. He kept glancing at his watch. They had a booked counselling session in ten minutes. Maybe Arthur would decide not to come? That would make himself look better in the eye of the judge. But, as if he sensed the joy emitting from Francis, Arthur appeared from around the corner and walked over towards him.

Francis straightened up and smiled over at Arthur. "Ready to do this?"

"Pretend you don't make me vomit out of my nose every time I look at you?" Arthur muttered as he placed the Vegas ring back onto his finger. "Yes."

* * *

The counsellor looked how they imagined, and it was with disappointment they noted the strong German-like accent. After the luck they had with the last one, they didn't get their hopes up - even if this one looked far less intimidating than Ludwig. In fact, Roderich looked as though he was sucked out of a different era with the odd clothing he wore. Like a Georgian flop, Arthur thought, unaware of the flirtatious thoughts going through Francis' mind.

There was no smile given when they arrived. He looked annoyed already. A pen tapped against the notebook resting upon his lap. Roderich's eyes bored into the uncomfortable couple of the sofa who were, against their will, snuggled up together with Francis' arm looped around Arthur's shoulder. The Englishman was sitting stiffly as if fighting the urge to run.

"So, Francis, tell me about yourself. What are your hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" Francis said slowly, thinking it over and then gave Roderich a nervous smile. "You mean, beside my marriage? Mostly, I just like loving him. It's just so easy. Quoi d'autre? Listening. I love listening to what he has to say. Mon chéri." He gave Arthur a squeeze who remained as stiff as before but gave a nervous smile in return. "I think just being there for him. Loving him until it hurts." Francis laughed, a clearly forced one. "That's... most of my interests."

"Arthur?"

"I'd have to agree," Arthur added in a strained tone. "And I have to add... staring at him. Yeah." He smiled falsely, trying to ignore the suddenly smug aura of his husband. "I just love watching him. I love everything about him. Most people would be repulsed to find his dirty underwear shoved at the bottom of a bed and touching them in the middle of the night. Most people would also be repulsed at the state of his bathroom and his selfish nature but -" Francis coughed, the smugness quickly going, "- Not me. No, I love the hard work. It's so pleasant to do when I get back from working in the office all day."

"His candles smell awesome," Francis quickly cut in.

Roderich raised his eyebrows and then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I do have a few degrees and I went to really expensive schools. Anyway, I'm not buying any of the bullshit you two are selling today. Now, if you want me to report back to the court that you're both working on your marriage, you're gonna actually have to do that."

Their smiles dropped instantly. Francis dropped his arm onto his lap and Arthur shifted down to the other end of the sofa. It felt far more awkward now than when they were trying to act lovey-dovey. This wasn't going to be as easy as they hoped. Did that mean they actually had to work on their marriage? It was going to be a long, extremely long, six months.

* * *

A great stressful day needed a relaxing end. It took a great deal of effort to maintain his good looks and stress was one factor he tried actively to avoid. So he dug up his beauty treatment kit from a cupboard. With his hair neatly tied back, Francis carefully slapped on the specially made mud treatment and then cut up thinly sliced cucumbers pieces.

Everything looked perfect. There were candles (non-fragrance) lit and soft classical music playing. A nice dip in the bath and a glass of wine would be the bees' knees. He could forget everything that happened.

Arthur was ignoring him. He only spoke when he made dinner (chili con carne which Francis quickly refused) and was curled up on a chair reading a book. Every now and then he would glance up and then smirk but Francis ignored him too.

Turning the taps off, Francis collected the cucumbers slices and returned to the bathroom. He sank into the hot water with a pleased sign then placed the cucumber slices over his eyes. This was bliss. For a beautiful moment, he forgot about the stuck-up Englishman, the equally stuck-up counsellor, and everything else.

Until a painful sensitive grew around his eyes. It was itchy and tears were forming. In the next couple of seconds, he bolted up and began to splash water into his face whilst cursing loudly in pain.

* * *

His eyes were red when he came out of the bath with a towel around his waist. Ashamed with his appearance, Francis began to search through his kit to find a make-up that would cover or soothe the ugly marks on his skin.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, looking up from his book. "You look like you were crying. Finally accepted defeat?"

"Non," Francis replied sourly, "There was something wrong with those cucumbers."

"Cucumbers?" The Brit stood up and tucked his book under his arm. He walked into the kitchen area and raised his bushy eyebrows at the several bottles and other containers spread across the table. "Well if you kept them in - Oh," he cut off when he noticed half a cucumber left upon the chopping board. "Oh. Oh dear." He smiled innocently at his husband. "No wonder your eyes hurt. You left them on here. I was chopping the chili on the same board."

Francis froze.

"Silly me. I usually wash up afterwards but I guess I forgot too. Nevermind."

All his hard work of keeping the kitchen pristine was for nothing. Francis had made sure to label everything; every board had a different purpose. And here Arthur was... Certain Arthur was laughing in the other room, Francis dropped onto a chair and sobbed in frustration.

* * *

Francis lingered impatiently by the bathroom door. It was morning and he wanted to trim his beard that was growing rather scruffy and check if his skin was still marked from the horrors earlier. Francis prided himself on his appearance and stubbornly refused to even leave the flat until he had tendered to his flawed state. Unfortunately for him, Arthur had other ideas and locked himself in the bathroom an hour ago.

Now, not only did he want to tidy himself up, he was also in dire need of the toilet. "I really, really need to get in there!" he pleaded as he knocked on the door.

"Should have got up earlier than," Arthur's bitter reply was.

* * *

Enough was enough. That very same day when Arthur was at work, Francis called Gilbert over and together they unscrewed the bathroom door and carried it outside to the bins that lined the alley beside the flats.

"Why do I have to carry the heavy side?"

"There's no heavy side!"

* * *

The second he opened the door to the flat, Arthur sprinted over to the bathroom. All those cups of tea seemed like a good idea at the time to remove the stress but it was backfiring upon him badly now. His hand went out to where the door handle was only to grasped at air. He looked back and noticed the bathroom door had been removed from its hinges.

There was only one reasonable excuse to what happened here. He rounded on Francis who had left his kitchen with a glass of his evening wine. "Where's the bathroom door?"

"We got robbed," Francis said in a fake mournful voice. "And all they took was the door..."

Arthur clenched his hands into fists and took a couple of deep breaths. "$1.5 million..." he muttered to himself as he changed direction and headed back out of the flat. The public toilets shouldn't be too far away but upon finding their disgusting state, Arthur knew that Francis had just crossed a line.

This meant war.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a beautiful morning in terms of weather. The sun was shining, the river was a lovely blue, and the grass was soft to sit upon. But it didn't feel like a good morning. It felt like a nauseous feeling that hasn't been shaken off after the punch in the gut.

Francis was rocking back and forth, trying to over-come the daunting sense that had been haunting him since he get back from Vegas. "Marriage is hard!" he complained, "I don't know how people do this." All belief he had about marriage being romantic and beautiful was sucked out. It was a curse. A horrible curse. What did he do to upset God this much? It wouldn't be so bad if he was married to someone who wasn't so insufferable!

"That's why I did a little research." Gilbert grinned and dropped down next to him then pulled a folder out of his bag. "I've been looking through some case law, you know, some precedent to help us get around the ruling. And I think I found one. Lafferty v. Holden."

The names did not ring a bell to Francis but he turned his head miserably to his friend. Nothing else seemed to be working.

"Lafferty's third marriage was to this 20-year-old club-footed Cuban bartender who came into a ton of money," Gilbert hurried on, reading straight from the notes he copied and pasted from online. "The court said that if they both wanted the money, they had to remain married and prove they can make it work. Sound familiar?"

Francis nodded his head, wondering where this was going.

"Lafferty wasn't going to see a cent of that but then she proved that he'd been unfaithful and the judge ruled in her favour and gave her all the money." Seeing the lights switch on, Gilbert continued on eagerly. "See, the judge said that you had to prove that you were trying to make the marriage work. But if we can make it seem like he isn't... I don't know why I haven't thought of this before!"

"Because you're not a very good lawyer," Francis pointed out, a smile appearing back onto his handsome face. This could work. It shouldn't be too hard to do either!

"Oh, my god." Gilbert laughed loudly. "There should be a law against how bad a lawyer I am. But then again, I wouldn't know about it!"

"So if I can get Arthur to end the marriage by either leaving me or cheating on me..." Francis said slowly.

"Not only would you get out of the marriage... You will also get the full $3 million."

"Je t'aime!" Francis cried, throwing his arms around Gilbert. "I want to kiss you! On your big beautiful head!" He sobbed, clinging on to the flustered lawyer.

Finally a way to get out of this horrible marriage!

* * *

It was one of those rare moments were Francis was able to have his home to himself. Arthur was out somewhere and Francis was not going to question where or why. It was this kind of peace that he needed to focus upon his fashion designs. He still had not forgotten the falling out with his father and needed to do something spectacular to get back into the business.

He just finished the last touches to the skirt when the doorbell rang. Curious to who it would be at this hour, he placed the drawing pad aside and went to answer the door. To his immense delight, it was two beautiful girls wearing cocktail dresses. One was carrying a large bottle of champagne (and not a bad brand either, Francis noted).

"Hi."

"Bonjour."

One of the girls twirled a strand of hair around her finger and fluttered her long black lashes at him. "We got locked out of our apartment. Would you mind if we just waited in here until the locksmith comes? He said it would only be a few hours."

Francis peered over his shoulder. His flat was spot clean and would definitely impress. Not only that, but he'll be in far better company than he had been since his grim holiday. He gave them a flirtatious smile and stepped aside. "Sure."

"Thank you!"

The girls passed through, one pausing to give him anther cute smile. "Also, we were supposed to have some friends over tonight. Do you mind if they waited in here too?"

"The more the merrier!" Francis said generously, closing the door after them only to hear knocking again. He opened it and saw beautiful woman after beautiful woman step inside. Francis bit his bottom lip. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Gilbert was staring dully out of the taxi window, trying to think of the next genius plan for Francis, when he felt his phone vibrate. It could only be one person. "Hallo?"

Francis' voice was tense - a panicky kind of tense. "There is a hot girl party going on in my living room!"

"Huh?" Gilbert leant forward. He could hear the loud beating music in the background and giggles.

"There are several beautiful women... Oh, merde!" Francis groaned down the phone. "Merde. There's a pillow fight about to break out."

Damn it. Gilbert cursed and then tried to calm down the irrational side of his side. "It's a trap!"

"Non! This happens!"

"Nein!" Gilbert gripped his silver hair. "Get out of the house!" he cried urgently. "Get out of the house right now! He must have figured out the same thing we did!" And when he had such a flawless plan too!

There was a brief silence in which Gilbert wondered if Francis would take the bait when the Frenchman cut across his thoughts with; "Okay, just because Arthur sets a trap doesn't mean we can't play at the same game. You call every guy we know. And get some boring stockbroker kind of guys, the kind of guys no one likes. The more boring, the better. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into!"

* * *

Arthur and Elizaveta could hear the music and thuds from the ground floor. No doubt there'll be heavy complaints made in the morning but it wasn't his flat so, quite frankly, he didn't give a damn. When he opened the door, he saw far more females than he anticipated. He had to hand it to Elizaveta. When she plots revenge, she was ruthless.

They slipped passed the girls and saw Francis sitting back against his bar with no intention of joining in the dancing. Something was up, Arthur thought. He definitely didn't like the smug look on the bastard's face. Frowning, he went into the kitchen to have a quick discussion.

"This isn't working," Arthur said, grinding his teeth in annoyance. "We need to call in some sluts. There's no way he can resist them."

"Sluts? I know some sluts," Elizaveta scooped her phone out of her purse and began to make the calls.

Unknown to them, the door opened again and a few males entered. The majority of them were still wearing suits as if they were dragged here straight after work. Gilbert lead the group and had picked up one of their other friends along the way; a curious and smiling Spaniard. When they realised just how bad the situation was, they hurried over to the bar where Francis was eagerly waiting their arrival.

"This guy is the reason why we're not spending that money right now," Gilbert muttered, looking over at the growing crowd.

"This 'guy' is the reason I'm not having a six-way right now!" Francis hissed.

"Mi amigo, who is it ruining your life?" Antonio asked, gazing happily around at the many pretty girls and guys.

Gilbert was pushed to the side so Francis could point between the crowd. "That one. The bushy eyebrows rosbif over there."

Antonio looked over and saw Arthur talking to another female. "That's your husband?" he said in disbelief then broke into a broad smile. "El es tan guapo!"

Francis and Gilbert exchanged a look then pulled Antonio away from the crowd. "Pick a team! Pick a team right now!"

"His!" Antonio replied excitedly.

* * *

On the other side of the room, Elizaveta was introducing her latest friends to Arthur. Gathered around in a group, Arthur kept his voice as low as he could. "Listen up, girls. Do whatever you need to do to get into his pants. Get him drunk. It'll slip right out. Go!"

But he wasn't the only one planning a counterattack. The stock-brokers arrived and Francis hurried them off to the side to have a quick word. "Ignore him. Don't even make eye contact with him. Look at everyone here except for him. It'll drive him crazy."

* * *

If there was a Hell on Earth, Francis was right in the centre of it. Girls were flocking over him, giving him suggestible winks and squeezing his arse whenever he went pass. A couple latched onto his arm and he could feel the blood rushing down as their cleavage pushed against his chest. Drink after drink was offered to him to the point where he simply carried two around with him so no more could be pushed into his hands.

Mon dieu! Mon dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu!

Just as he was getting desperate, Gilbert shooed them away and found his arm painfully gripped by the almost crying Frenchman. "I'll give him the money! I'll give him the money!"

Gilbert winched and looked around for the third member of their trio, only to find Antonio happily chatting away to an extremely bored Englishman.

"If you need anybody to talk to, you know, just let me know, señor."

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned his back onto the Spaniard. Whenever he tried to strike up a conversation with other men, they gave him a nervous smile and hurried off. Many had slipped off the moment Arthur looked at them. He knew exactly what they were doing and it was working. Being ignored was beginning to take its toll. He would kill for this party to end. And he knew just who the victim would be.

But it didn't.

The surprises were still coming.

The door opened and in stepped a couple of police offers; female and a male. The music came to a sudden halt. The male officer frowned and placed his hands onto his belt. "I'm here about a noise complaint."

"Yes," the female agreed, a small smile growing on her red lips. "Someone called to complain that you're not making enough noise!"

Arthur groaned when the police jackets threw across the room. Music was switched back on and the crowd formed around the dancing strippers. Strippers! Who the hell called them? This wasn't his plan and he doubted it would have been Francis! It was getting out of hand now. Unable to take any more, Arthur disappeared into the bathroom - the only room that wasn't cramped with dancing drunks.

Unfortunately, it wasn't empty.

Francis was standing there with his head underneath the shower. Water was trickling along his locks and down underneath his shirt but Francis didn't seem to care. It was cold and it was doing the trick on calming him down (and soothing his headache at the same time). The drinks he had were perched on the back of the toilet, neglected and ignored now their purpose was done.

"Oh, sorry," Arthur muttered, turning around. "I was just... trying to find some quiet from the craziness out there."

His husband shrugged and turned the shower off. His hair was dripping wet and stuck to the sides of his head. Picking up a towel, he tenderly began to dry each lock. "Do you really think that I'm dumb enough to cheat on you?" he asked in a somewhat hurt tone.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and leant against the wall. "I think it's only a mater of time and, yes, I think you're more than dumb enough."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. I appreciate that."

Unable to resist rubbing salt into the wound, Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. "This must be so _**hard**_ for you."

"Pardon?"

"Being in a relationship."

Francis sighed. This was becoming a huge annoyance now and Arthur was pressing every single button he shouldn't. "I've been in relationships before," he said firmly. He just never found one that kept its excitement. It was fun at first and then, after only a month, it would become an ordinary and dull relationship were the excitement was planned out rather than simply happen in the moment.

Arthur scoffed again. "I know you, Francis. Don't forget, I've been living with you. You're not exactly serious boyfriend/husband material."

That was crossing the line. Francis could be a loving partner if he wished to be. If he gave his whole heart then he only got half back. Finding someone as devoted to you as you them was not easy. Glaring at Arthur, his expression soon turned into a mocking sneer. "This must be hard for you too."

"Really?" Arthur asked coolly.

"Oui. Being married to me when you're so clearly in love with your ex."

Arthur's ears went pink and his back stiffened. The topic of Kiku had long slipped his mind. In fact, he had never given one thought to his ex since he got into this mess. The moment Francis mentioned him, it brought back some unpleasantness. "I'm not in love with him."

"Right. Then why are you still wearing the ring on your finger?"

"Because my current husband bought me one out of a vending machine in Vegas," Arthur snapped.

"All I know is, if I get dumped on my derriere then I won't wear the ring unless I'm still in love with him."

"I'm **not** in love with him!"

Francis laughed and smirked at the angered Englishman. It was comical how quickly Arthur lost his 'gentleman' stature and become something else completely different - and far more true to his real character. Francis hadn't fallen for the gentleman act at all.

"In fact, I'm happy I'm not with him anymore!" Arthur growled, balling his hands into fists to tight that his nails were cutting into his skin. "I spent the last four years of my life trying to be somebody else's idea of perfect, and you know what? I still don't feel good enough for him."

Oh. He said too much. Arthur went pink and stared at the side. There was a brief uncomfortable silence. "That's not what I meant," he muttered, wishing he could take back those words. Of all the people to hear it... "I just..."

"Don't worry!" Francis said smugly, stepping closer to Arthur till they were only inches apart. To his immense delight, Arthur only glared at him and stayed put. Francis leant in to whisper into Arthur's ear delicately. "Your secret's safe with me, mon mari."

"You're such an arse!" Arthur snapped, shoving Francis' chest. "You know what? It's irrelevant now, because I don't care if I ever see him again!" He raised his hand and yanked off his engagement ring. Moving around Francis, resisting the urge to punch him in the face or stab him in the eye with the ring, Arthur dropped the ring into a small pot left on the counter by the sink.

Francis placed a hand over his heart. "Merci, mon cherie," he said silkily. "That makes me feel so, so, so special."

"It has nothing to do with you, Frog!" Arthur cut across, gripping Francis by his damp shirt. "I'm not going to be screwing this over. I'm in it for the long haul. So you better watch your back."

"Till death do us part." Francis smirked.

"Not unless I kill you first," Arthur hissed.

Narrowed blue eyes met narrowed green eyes with only a couple of inches between them. They could feel the other's harsh breathing against their lips, their hearts racing with the adrenaline from their argument, and Arthur's grip tightened as if trying to pull Francis slowly closer. A second felt like eternity until Francis pulled himself free and walked out of the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

"It's like he's always there!"

"He doesn't do anything all day!"

"Left, right, up, down!"

"It's like he's not even a grownup!"

"I don't have an ounce of space..."

"He does nothing...!"

"...for just me! Just me!"

"...all day long!"

"And I swear to God..."

"He's never even heard of modesty!"

"... he poisoned me with his food!"

"I think he's trying to drive me crazy!"

"It's like he doesn't even want this marriage to work!" they both yelled, glaring heatedly at the each other.

Roderich finished scribbling the notes down upon his clipboard and then looked over to them from the top of his glasses. "Finally," he said in a his thick accent with the faintest hint of a smile, "You're arguing. Now that felt like a real married couple. You're making progress."

Not taking that well as a compliment, the two quietened down into an awkward silence, shifted further apart on the sofa, and avoided giving any eye contact to the other.

* * *

The trio of friends rested against upon a bench, looking out onto the busy street in front of them. Car after car zoomed by along with their confidence. After their last plan failed badly, it was becoming harder and harder to think of better plans that would guarantee them success. Sadly, in their desperation, they were beginning to tend beyond the legal boundaries.

"We could kidnap him until the hearing." Antonio beamed. "He could stay at my place."

He didn't notice the identical expressions of disbelief his friends gave him. If this was the best plan they could come up with then Arthur was clearly winning and that only made them sulk more. Time was ticking on. They only had a few more weeks until the hearing and, at this rate, Arthur would be walking away with either $1.5 million or the whole thing if he could come up with a idea before them.

"Oh!" Gilbert sat up excited and punched the air. "I got it! We make it look like he gave you some kind of disease!" Removing his phone from his pocket, he began to dial a number eagerly. "I can have a vial of crabs here in 30 minutes." He too didn't notice the expression of disgust Francis was giving him. "First, we give them to you, and then, you know, we get somebody to give them to him so it looks like he gave them to you..." He trailed off and lowered his phone down.

"You really hadn't thought that one through, had you?" Francis rolled his eyes. There was no why he would sink that low into giving himself an infection. This body was like a temple to the gods and could not be vandalised so crudely!

"I'll give him the crabs easily," Antonio volunteered, "There are loads at the beach -"

"No more ideas from you," Francis said sharply.

"I've got it! It's perfect!" Gilbert stood up and motioned for Francis to do the same. "This is great. Ready?" Without further warning, Gilbert punched Francis squarely on the nose, making the Frenchman cry out in pain and stumble back, clutching the bench to avoid falling down.

His nose was throbbing with pain. It was sheer luck it didn't break but he could taste blood trickling down to his lip. What kind of monster would hit a guy's perfect little nose! "What are you doing?!"

"Relax!" Gilbert pulled Francis' hand away from his face, looking rather impressed at the blood smear. "Stay with me on this one!"

The next punch was a punch too far. Antonio watched from the bench as the two began to wrestle and fight. Francis was attempting to claw out Gilbert's eyes while the other yelled and tried to knock the hands away so he could punch again. Seeing blood, Antonio stood up and easily yanked the two apart. Francis squirmed to break free of his grip so he could continue getting his revenge.

"Damn it!" Gilbert swore, cupping his bruised jaw and backing away. "You don't get it!"

* * *

Arthur was smiling pleasantly upon the sofa. Francis still hadn't arrived and the counsellor was checking the clock and growing more irritated with each passing minute. To keep himself amused, Arthur had his phone out and was playing a game of solitude when there was a weak knock upon the door.

Francis stepped inside slowly wearing a large pair of black sunglasses. It would have been ignored if Francis hadn't co-ordinated his outfit so the sunglasses didn't stand out so much. Instead of his usual cocky stride, he flinched when he sat down on the sofa and eased away from his husband. With the counsellor's attention completely on him, Francis removed his glasses slowly and kept his gaze on his lap in shame (and not all of it was forced). His right eye was supporting a large black bruise.

"Francis, what happened to your face?"

Nervously fiddling with his glasses, Francis glanced over to the still smiling Arthur and then back down at his lap. "I fell," he said meekly.

"You fell?"

"Oui..." Francis gave him a weak smile, adding a few tears to his eyes for a more realistic effect. "I hit my head on a doorknob. A few times. I fall a lot these days. I'm just..." His voice strained. "I'm so clumsy."

"Francis, are you sure that's what happened to you? Sure someone else didn't do this to you?"

Francis gave Arthur another nervous glance and then broke down into well-practiced tears. "I deserve it!" he choked, "I'm supposed... I'm supposed to line up the hand towels just so, and I didn't... I didn't do it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Then he said, "You put that toilet seat down or I will put you down! I'll stick your head in there and I will make it stay!"

He looked at Arthur again who didn't bat an eyelid the entire speech. Instead, Arthur turned his phone around to show a clear video recording of Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio. The latter two were taking turns to punch Francis in the face, making him stumble back in all directions.

"Mon dieu!"

"What? He's gotta make it look real so it seems like he was beating you!"

"Not that real!"

"That sucker's gonna show!"

How Arthur managed to record the mock fight was beyond him. Was Arthur now suddenly a spy? Francis flinched for real from the sudden angry aura coming from the counsellor and gave him a small smile. "Let's get back to therapy," he suggested, placing the glasses away.

* * *

Arthur just got back from a long exhausting day from work when he heard the house phone go off. Prioritising his cup of tea over answering it, he left the phone to switch to voice mail. It was probably another love message from one of Francis' many girl friends. It pissed him off at how popular Francis was. Thankfully, they were all taking the hint one by one that he was no longer on the market.

"Hi, you've reached the happy couple.

We can't come to the phone right now because we're busy loving each other.

And making our marriage work!

Leave a message!"

That voice mail still made him cringe. He couldn't remember whose idea it had been but both attempted to make it sound so genuine that it came off as an ugly type of cheesy.

"Hi. This is Annette calling from Dr. Edelstein's office."

Cursing, Arthur abandoned the kettle and hurried over to the phone, picking it up in time before Annette could continue. "Hello?"

"Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy?"

He detested that name too. Grinding his teeth, Arthur answered with a forced pleasant confirmation, "Yes."

"The doctor needed to cancel today's session and he was wondering if you could do Friday?"

"Umm, give me a minute." Pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear, Arthur looked through his diary. Most of his days were filled with extra shifts at work (for promotion and avoiding Francis purposes). "I can do anything after 3pm."

"The doctor can do 4pm."

"Perfect."

"See you then."

Hanging up, Arthur made a note in the diary then went back to his neglected kettle and wondered if he would be decent enough to tell Francis about the changed session. It would serve the bastard right if he didn't turn up.

But he already knew. When Annette tucked her phone away, she gave Francis a warm smile. "He brought it."

Francis kissed her cheeks. "Merci beaucoup!" He repeated over and over again as he hurried off to get himself ready for the on-coming session.

* * *

Francis could hear Arthur singing from the bathroom when he slipped quietly into the flat. Surprising, the Brit could sing well (even if it was that horrible noise called rock or punk or whatever its name was nowadays). Since the bathroom door was removed, Arthur had placed up a blanket across the doorway. It made Francis smirk.

Tiptoeing quietly across the floor, Francis picked up his bags and notes from the previous session and hurried out before Arthur could hear him. If Arthur was to catch on, Francis would need a head start. It was the door unintentionally slamming behind him that made Arthur turn down the radio. "Hello?" he called out. "Is that you frog-face?"

Highly suspicious to why Francis would be creeping across his own home, Arthur climbed out of the bath and placed a towel around his waist. Leaving a trail of water behind him, Arthur brushed the blanket aside and looked around. The rooms looked perfectly normal. Then Arthur noticed something in the corner of his eye. Outside, he could see Francis trying to flag down a taxi and failing.

He looked too desperate to get to his destination for it to be normal. Frowning, Arthur picked up the phone and made a phone call.

"Dr Edelstein speaking."

"Hi, this is Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy. I got a phone call from Annette saying that our session was cancelled today. I just wanted to double-check that."

"Your session is definitely still on. And any absence is considered contempt of court."

"It is?" Arthur asked darkly.

* * *

A taxi finally stopped in front of him. Sighing in relief, Francis opened the door only to be roughly shoved to the side. "Arsehole! Trying to get me to miss therapy!" Arthur yelled, climbing into the car instead. The driver didn't seem to care. "75th Riverside and step on it!"

With Francis knocking on the window, trying to get in, the driver pressed down his foot and the taxi went off without him. Cursing loudly, Francis gave chase.

Arthur didn't get very far. A few turns later and they were stuck in a full on traffic jam. Swearing about his rotten luck, Arthur moved around in the back seat to get a better look at any short-cuts they could take. "Is there any way around this?" he asked impatiently.

"Does it look like there is a way around this?"

Swearing again, Arthur fell back into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. This was stupid. Of all the times to be stuck in traffic! At this rate Francis - There was a short rap upon his window and, glancing to the side, he saw Francis skating pass several cars on a skateboard. He was mockingly waving as he passed them.

That bastard!

Abandoning the vehicle, Arthur jumped out and ran over to a stall by the side of the wall. Collecting up a large bag of oranges, he tossed a few notes over to the owner and gave chase after his husband.

Francis was maneuvering between the cars with ease. In his prime, he was a parkour champion so it was barely an effort to find a path through. Until he felt something splat against the back of his head. Weaving between other cars to avoid another hit, he saw several oranges narrowly avoid him (and setting off a couple of alarms). Then a second orange knocked into the side of his head - sending him down onto another fruit stand with a sharp yell of surprise.

Laughing, Arthur ran past and tossed the last orange directly into Francis' groin and sprinted off. There was a small tour bus parked to the side with the tour guide stating they were heading towards the central park - just where he needed to go. Jumping on, he sank back down into his seat on the top deck, still laughing at the comical sight of Francis' doubling over with orange peel in his hair and face.

"Is this seat taken?"

Yelling in surprise, Arthur jumped at the sight of the Frenchman inches away from him. The surprise quickly changed back into annoyance as Francis purposely crushed him against the seat in attempt to get to the one beside him. "Excusez-moi ~"

"You're so immature!" Arthur yelled, pressing his feet against Francis and crushing him against the railings. "Go away! Jump off!"

"Ow! That really hurt! You're hurting me!"

"And here we are, Central Park. Yes, isn't it beautiful? Half an hour, people. That's 30 minutes for those on the metric system," the tour guide announced, only to be pushed aside as Arthur sprinted off the bus with Francis right behind him.

Dashing between the various groups having picnics, Arthur could see Francis closing in on him. Picking up a baguette from one group, he turned around and sharply swung it into Francis' stomach. Stumbling, Francis seized another baguette and took arms in the fierce bread battle. Arthur dodged a blow and broke the bread on top of Francis' head then dashed on ahead again while he recovered. Francis' baguette was thrown after him but missed, making Francis curse too and sprint after. Catching up, Francis shoved Arthur into the bushes and laughed as the Englishman emerged with twigs and berries in his hair.

There was a short cut though. Francis headed straight there and stopped before a large wall. Parkour skills could manage that easily! But he had barely gotten a few steps up when Arthur grabbed his foot and yanked him down roughly, skinning Francis' well-manicured hands in the process.

"Idiot!" Arthur yelled, running off to go around as their wild chase continued to the alarm of many around them.

* * *

The doors to the counselling room flew open and in toppled to quarreling couple. Still trying to pull the other back, they grabbed feet and shirts and wrestled until, finally, they collapsed upon the sofa in a tangled heap. Too exhausted to fight anymore, they simply laid there and panted for air.

Seeing the horrified expression of their counsellor, as Roderich observed their filthy and exhausted states with numerous leaves in their hair then wrote on his clipboard, Francis and Arthur exchanged a glance and then broke into side-splitting laughter.


	8. Chapter 8

Someone had to get the groceries and Francis was not going to risk letting Arthur do it after the first time he brought home all kind of horrors. So shopping was Francis' only responsibility he would gladly take without bickering it over with Arthur. Rearranging the bags in his arms, he took out his key and then paused. He could hear talking from inside his flat and, with his stomach twisting in horror, knew exactly what was happening. He pushed the door open and hurried through then stared in alarm at the two adults sitting at his table, having a perfectly delightful conversation.

"Oh, hi love!" Arthur smiled and waved in a manner he never had before. "Welcome home!"

Francis' eyes travelled over to the man with wavy blond hair plaited at the back. Was there not a single nightmare of his that wasn't going to come true? "Père... What are you doing here?"

"I got a message from your father and I thought I'd surprise you and invite him over for dinner," Arthur explained in a horribly sweet tone that Francis did not fall for. "Apparently, he had never been invited over here. How shocking! You should respect your father more, darling. I couldn't imagine not meeting him! It was lucky he called."

"Why didn't you tell me you got married?" Martialis said in a stern tone, placing down his wineglass and eyeing his nervous pale son. "I know you're still mad at me about the firing, but you get married and you don't tell me? That is very, very hurtful. Especially - "

"Père, I -"

"Especially when it's a catch like Arthur here."

"I - Pardon?" Francis blinked, shocked at the statement.

"I am proud of you, François. I didn't think you'd ever settle down. But then I met this wonderful man and you couldn't have done better." Martialis raised his glass as if making a toast. "I am very proud of you, Fils."

Francis was speechless. He had never heard his father say anything that remotely kind to him. And for him to say it over something that is a lie... it hurt. Trying to mask over his guilt, Francis shuffled his feet on the ground and tried to force a warm smile. "Mon petit chou, can I speak to you for one second, s'il vous plaît?"

"Of course." Arthur stood up and smiled politely to Martialis. "Excuse us, Mr Bonnefoy. He probably just wants to give me a big smooch. We haven't seen each other all day!"

Martialis only nodded and helped himself to another glass of wine while the two disappeared into the bathroom together. The moment he was out of earshot, Arthur smirked at Francis. "How weird is it going to be in court when your father is a character witness for me?" he said smugly, loving the despair on Francis' face. Finally, he was winning this over. Victory was within his grasp and it tasted good.

Francis winched. "You haven't told him everything?"

"No," Arthur lost his smile and shrugged. He wasn't that cruel. "I was waiting for you to do that."

"What if we didn't? What would it take for you to just keep this our little secret for a little bit?" Francis asked, hating the feeble situation he was in. If his father found out the truth, then... Francis would hate to imagine what would happen. No. For this one time, he would swallow his pride and admit defeat. Feeling like a cornered rat, he stayed wide-eyed at his husband.

Arthur took his time to reply then, finally, decided to back down. "I want the bathroom door back," Arthur said simply. "And if you ever take it away again, I'll make the phone-call and it's over."

"Done."

Deciding not to shake hands on the matter, they rejoined Martialis at the table. Arthur smiled again. "Mr Bonnefoy, it is nice to finally meet the man who has taught Francis everything he knows."

"I tried."

"Something must have stuck." Arthur waved a hand over to the mannequin in the corner. "Did you know he made the dress over there? Isn't it beautiful?" he complimented.

Martialis looked over at the dress and then shook his head. "The blue shade doesn't match the green."

Francis didn't say anything. He took the bottle and filled his own glass up high. This was why he didn't like having his father around. What was his pride and joy was too easily ruined in seconds when Martialis looked at it. It would be nice to actually hear something positive about his work but that was never going to happen. This took Arthur by surprise.

The Brit lost his smile and then frowned. "Well, I think it's great. I actually think that Francis could sell his designs."

Francis stared at his husband in shock. Today was full of surprises. So Arthur was serious when he gave the compliment? That was a first. It came so suddenly that he had no idea how to respond.

"I don't know," Martialis pressed on in the same stern tone as before. "That would require actually finishing it."

Arthur laughed. "Maybe you should try telling Francis you don't want him to finish it then maybe he would actually do it." That was the French way though he left that thought to himself since Francis wasn't the only Frenchman around the table just now.

"What are you doing on Saturday?" Martialis asked. "You should come to our family get together in the park with us."

Ignoring Francis' panicked expression, Arthur nodded. "I would love to."

* * *

"He went after my family!"

Gilbert sighed. Ever since the party, Francis' rantings were getting more and more frequent. He was getting tired of it but thankfully brought enough beer with him to endure the sulks. "You're letting this guy get in your head."

"Yeah, I know." Francis ran his fingers through his hair. "Now I'm going to figure out how to get into his." It wasn't going to be easy. How was he meant to strike better than this?

"You should never let anyone get in your head. That's why I prefer not to even talk to my dates."

"That's because you can't." Seeing how Gilbert wasn't going to be any good this time, Francis went into the bathroom when he then caught sight of a little pot. Inside was Arthur's engagement ring. An idea sprung to his mind. Grinning, he picked up the ring and held it to the light. The diamonds shined. "Why didn't I think of this before? If he's going to play dirty, so am I."

* * *

Tracking down Kiku wasn't easy yet somehow Francis managed to locate the office where he worked and lingered by the reception desk. The guard gave him a basic description so when a small Japanese man stepped out of the lift, Francis hurried over and took him aside. "You're Kiku, oui?"

"Yes..." Kiku said slowly, watching him cautiously.

Francis smiled and held out a hand. "I'm Francis Bonnefoy. I'm a friend of Arthur's."

Kiku shook his hand, calming down slightly. "Arthur's?"

"Oui." Francis dug into his pocket and took out the ring. "I wanted to give you this back. He threw it in the trash. But, you know, I couldn't just let it end up in the trash. I mean, you spent must have spent five or six thousand on this thing." The price of love was an expensive one.

"Thirty grand," Kiku corrected, accepting the ring after almost having to yank it out of Francis' sudden hard grip on it. "Thank you. How is he doing?"

"You know, he's good." Francis dropped his hand down to his side and tried not to think about the 30 grand that just slipped out of his fingers. "Arthur told me what an impressive guy you are." Though Francis couldn't see where Arthur got his ideas from. "He said he was trying to be so perfect because, deep down, he never felt like he was good enough to be with you. But those insecurities are long gone now. He's really come into his own. He's on fire! I'll tell you what, he not gonna be on the open market for very long. It's a feeding frenzy out there!"

"A feeding frenzy, huh?" Kiku replied politely, clearly preferring to end this conversation quickly.

"I must get going," Francis said with a wink. "We're having a party tomorrow so I must get ready. It was nice seeing you, Kiku."

"Nice seeing you too."

* * *

Francis was paranoid come morning. Highly paranoid. He couldn't stop pacing across the room the entire morning. There were so many things Arthur could do to ruin him. So many. How was he going to make it out of there with his dignity still intact?

"You look as if someone is out to get you," Arthur said when he stepped out of the bathroom now fully clothed. There was that smug tone in his voice again.

Biting his lip, Francis eyed Arthur's outfit. _Punk?_ Out of all the clothing to go for... "Non!" Francis said sternly. "You are not wearing that."

Arthur frowned. "Listen here, I have limited amount of clothing here and most of my best -"

"Non, non!" There was to be no excuses. Francis grabbed Arthur's arm and marched him out of the flat, ignoring all insults.

* * *

It had been a while since Francis last came to the clothing shop. It was rich and perfect to his tastes. Arthur stood out like a sore thumb and, much to Francis' pleasure, much of his arrogance was gone as the Briton looked around at the prices.

"Why did you bring me here?" Arthur demanded. "I can't afford any of this!"

"Non, but I can with my $3 million," Francis said smugly, loving the scowl he was given. "I won't have you show up in front of my family dressed like that. Now..." He wandered around and picked out a few selective pieces of clothing then dumped them in Arthur's arms. "Try them on."

Closing his mouth, Arthur looked at the various styles Francis had given him. For a moment, there was a childish look of joy in his eyes. He hurried off to the changing rooms.

Francis took a seat near the changing rooms and dismissed a man who offered his assistance. In the subject matter of fashion, Francis did not need any help. So whenever Arthur stepped out proudly, Francis knew what to alter until Arthur stepped out at last as a vision of perfection.

"Wonderful!" Francis praised, "Now you look a gentleman! Almost as good looking as moi ~"

"Go eat flies, frog," Arthur muttered, blushing. There was a small boyish smile on his face as he hurried to change out of the clothing so Francis could pay for it.

* * *

It was... bizarre how peaceful the rest of the day was. Any fears Francis had melted away within the first half an hour. His family had completely accepted Arthur as one of their own and Arthur, in turn, had been nothing but the perfect gentleman. Francis lingered back, watching cautiously but all his husband was doing was laughing and chattering cheerfully to each of the family members, until he was dragged into their conversations.

"Francis would sing 'I dreamed a dream' every day for six months," a female relation was saying in her rich French accent that had a country note to it. "He would beg me to take him to the theatre whenever he stayed over."

"Who wouldn't?" Francis protested.

"I agree completely!" Arthur said to his surprise. "I mean, Les Misérables is probably one of the greatest musicals ever made. I must have seen it on Broadway countless times."

Not only had Arthur flawlessly pronounced the title but he was so genuine that Francis had to smile. The smile may not have caught the attention of Arthur, but it did the woman who smiled knowingly as the two excitedly began to talk about their favourite characters and songs with strong passion while Francis became giddier when Arthur admitted to reading the novel. She wasn't the only one to notice.

Hanging by the picnic table and watching them closely, Gilbert sighed. This wasn't going in the direction they wanted. No. This was bad. Very bad.

* * *

When they became too bombarded with questions from the family (it was difficult to maintain the same story), Francis and Arthur decided to go for a walk around the park together. For the first time in forever, they didn't bicker nor argue nor even scowl. Instead, they were continuing on from their discussion earlier and laughing merrily.

It was strange how much they had in common. Their love for the threatre soon transferred into Francis attempting to teach Arthur a few French phrases and then laughing at the poor pronunciation. Arthur would then go red, hit Francis' arm playfully, and attempt again with more determination which just made Francis laugh louder so Arthur had to join in.

This continued on until Gilbert arrived over. Taking an instant annoyance to the idiot, Arthur muttered about getting something to eat and left the two alone to help himself to the various meals left out on the picnic bench.

Gilbert looked from Arthur's retreating back to Francis' pink cheeks. There was a light in his eyes that he hadn't seen before. He nudged Francis sharply to get his attention. "Mein Gott, you're falling for him!"

"P-pardon?!"

"You're falling for your husband! Dummkopf!"

"I-" Francis flustered and turned his head to the side in a snobbish manner. "Moi fall for that rosbif?" How completely ridiculous! As if that would ever be a possibility!


	9. Chapter 9

Whatever happened that day, something stuck. There was a lot less arguing in the flat and both of them attempted to make polite conversation whenever the silence became too much for them to bear. In the end, they brought the soundtrack to Les Misérables and left it on repeat while the two of them awkwardly kept their distance to get on with their own personal affairs.

It was one of the best weekends Arthur had had in a long time, even before the Vegas trip. For a few days, he was able to simply be himself and let his hair down. It was making his mind spin though. There was something more to this and yet he couldn't place his finger upon it.

"Hey, Artie! What did you do? Take a weekend off?"

Arthur looked up from his towering amount of paperwork to see his boss Alfred grinning in front of his desk. "I'm sorry," Arthur muttered, straightening himself up to give a better impression. "I had this thing this weekend with my husband's family -"

"Your husband?" Alfred's grin vanished and was replaced with surprise and then hurt. "You got married? Thanks for the invite. I didn't even know you had a boyfriend."

Oh. Damn it, he slipped up. Trying to give Alfred a reassuring smile, Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I got married a few months ago. I didn't tell you that? Sorry, I could have sworn I did."

"No, you didn't. I guess you're not a big sharer." Alfred perked up and grinned again. "Now, listen, Artie, I've been in this business for a long time. And the thing that I value most in my employees is honesty. So I'm gonna be honest with you. Right now, you and Yao are tied. Since Yao is bringing his wife to the retreat, I think you should bring your husband."

Arthur paled. The mood drop went completely unknown to the American. "I... He'll be there," Arthur said reluctantly. "You can count on it, Mr Jones."

* * *

Gilbert's jaw dropped only to then grin triumphantly when the surprise wore off. "You're kidding?" he said excitedly, leaning across the bar. "He asked you to come to a retreat for his job?"

"Oui."

"The most important thing to him in the world."

"Oui."

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert crossed his arms. "Can you believe that? I'm in shock. Shocked by** how you're still here**!" He slapped Francis' hand away from the drink he was reaching for. "You have to get your butt down there and pretend to be the perfect husband! Charm them all! Then, when you have them eating out of the palm of your hand, you make him sign this."

"Pardon?" Francis asked, watching Gilbert hunt around for a piece of paper and a pen. Finding them, Gilbert quickly scribbled down a message, sniggered, and handed it over to the Frenchman. "What's this?"

"It's a document relinquishing all the rights to the money. Ja? You tell him if he doesn't sign it, you're going to out him in front of everybody." Misunderstanding the hesitation in his friend's face, Gilbert shrugged. "I know the document is only rough at the moment. I can laminate it after or something."

Francis bit in his lap. This didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all. They were scooping low, very low, and Francis wasn't sure he wanted to continue playing this game anymore.

"Listen, Francis," Gilbert said firmly. "The hearing is in a week. A week! This is our last shot. You have to do it."

* * *

Arthur was nervous. Really nervous. He could not remember feeling this nervous before. He paced around, trying to convince himself that this would be over soon. It was only a weekend. It couldn't last forever. He turned around and began to walk up along the clothed table, only to walk directly into Alfred.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred grinned, looping an arm around Arthur's shoulders so the Briton couldn't escape. "Where's this husband of yours? I just met Yao's wife. Man, he is whipped!"

"Mr Jones, I... don't know," Arthur admitted weakly.

"Let's go find him!"

Cursing his rotten luck, Arthur found himself dragged along the garden grounds. There were plenty of tables laid out and guests standing around talking together politely. Alfred kept a firm grip on him the entire time until Arthur noticed Francis laughing at a table, surrounded by several others and pointed him out regretfully.

"Francis..." Arthur said, easing out of Alfred's grip to join Francis.

His husband rose to his feet and pulled him into an uncomfortably long hug. "Mon cher, I've been looking everywhere for you!" Francis kept an arm around Arthur's waist as he turned to introduce those who he had been laughing with. "Let me introduce you to my friends. This is David Young, your CFO. And this is the rest of your board, actually. Great people. Wealthy people ~"

Arthur was stunned. How the hell had Francis been able to charm the board?! For a second, he feared what may have been said but everyone greeted him warmly and joined him to sit with them.

"So you're the lucky guy!" Alfred grinned, punching Francis' arm playfully. "Artie, where have you been hiding this guy?"

"You know, I've just been keeping him all to myself!" Arthur smiled weakly and slumped down in his chair. Francis and Alfred were already cracking out the jokes and making everyone else laugh. It was embarrassing. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Francis' phone had been ringing madly for the last half an hour. Unable to ignore it any longer, Francis locked himself in a bathroom stall and answered. "Bonjour, Gilbert."

"So what's up? Has he signed it yet?"

He sounded impatient. Shifting uncomfortable (the smell from the toilet was putrid), Francis twirled a strand of his hair around his index finger. He had forgotten about that and now he was reminded, the unpleasant nagging feeling returned.

"Francis?"

"Non, not yet."

"You better not be pussying out on me!"

"Non, non. I'm just... waiting for him to get down here. Got to warm these people up, you know?"

"All right, well, call me when it's done, Ja? I'm holding down the fort in the meantime."

Francis could picture him going through all his wines, replacing them with beers, and going through all his fancy hair products. Feeling frustrated and annoyed, Francis tucked his phone away. However pushy he was, Gilbert was right. He had to do this and get the money. What was the worse that could happen? Arthur had a decent career and, with this promotion, would have enough money to live in comfort.

Yes. It was now or never.

* * *

He must have gazed at the scribbled form every minute. In and out of his pocket it went, over and over again. How could he have scooped so low? This went against his morals. Yes, he did have some. Sighing in frustration, he folded it up and tucked it away into his inside pocket and then leant his back against the bar. How many glasses of wine would be able to make him forget this?

To distract himself, he undid the ponytail his hair was in and quickly redone it so the strands were tightly tucked away. Finished, he looked back around at the crowd and noticed Arthur walking straight towards him. For a second, Francis barely recognised him. Arthur was all dressed up in a fine pressed suit with his hair brushed back. Now he looked true to the gentleman image.

They stared at each other in awkward silence until Arthur looked aside and muttered, "Guess I was wrong. You do clean up pretty well..."

Instead of making a witty remark, Francis merely smiled. A compliment from Arthur on his looks? Now Hell must be freezing over. "Merci," he replied, winking at his flustered husband. "I love your hair like that." It was far less savage looking.

"Thanks..." Arthur subconsciously touched his hair.

The timid look made Francis open his mouth and then quickly close it again. With Gilbert's words in his head, Francis looked to the barman. "Can I get two shots? You know what?" He added, noticing a third member of their little group heading towards them. "Make it three."

"Hey guys!" Alfred grinned, ignoring Arthur's frown at his casual manner. "How ya doing?"

"Good," Arthur said shortly. He quickly accepted the drink from Francis and drank a good amount to settle his nerves. Why did his boss have to be on such good terms with the man who makes his life a living hell?

"'Hello, my name is Arthur's bitch'," Alfred read the name sticker Francis proudly wore upon his jacket. He laughed. Arthur rolled his eyes and ripped the sticker off. Approaching Yao, he gave him a warm greeting and a friendly pat on the back; leaving the sticker behind. Alfred laughed louder when Arthur returned with a smug grin. "That's a good one, Artie! I had no idea you were so much fun! He's so grouchy and serious at work."

Francis chuckled and looped his arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer. "You don't know him that well. This one's a wildcat!" Growling playfully, he caught sight of the growing blush and beamed. "There's nothing this man loves more than a good dare."**  
**

"Really?"

"Oui!" Ignoring Arthur's weak protests, Francis winked. "You ever seen what he can do with a champagne bottle? Magnifique!"

Arthur was honestly amazed Francis could remember that. His face still red, he tried to brush it off. Why make a fool of himself in front of his boss? "No, it's just... It's a party trick. It's not..."

"I dare you," Alfred cut in. There was a broad grin on his face.

Bollocks. Taking the bottle and knife from Francis, Arthur shifted around so no one would get splashed. "I hate you," he muttered in the corner of his mouth.

"You love me ~"

Placing the blade against the neck of the bottle, Arthur skillfully ran it down and broke the lip and cork away. The champagne burst out like a fountain, making the crowd part to avoid being hit. Laughing, Francis quickly filled up three glasses then past one over to Alfred who was still laughing merrily.

"That was awesome!" he cheered, "Epic! You know, had I seen this side of you before, I probably would have promoted you a long time ago." Grinning, he parted ways with his glass in hand.

Arthur stared after him, stunned at the statement. Chuckling, Francis pushed a fresh glass into Arthur's hand and then lead him over to the casino area. If their luck on the games was the same as Vegas, they'll be walking away even richer.

* * *

Francis couldn't find the moment to talk to Arthur about the form. In fact, it slipped his mind completely as he and Arthur ended up laughing and joking most of the night away. They may not have had a lot in common in terms of likes but they had similar dislikes and complaining about them seemed to be Arthur's favourite activity. But, then again, the English were known for their endless amount of complaining.

Most of it fell on deaf ears as the night went on. It was only when the music died down and Alfred took the stage did Arthur zip his mouth shut. A crowd formed in front of the raised platform. Alfred happily called out to them, his loud voice having no need for the microphone. "Thank you all! Come gather round! Come on. Don't be afraid!" Alfred took out a small golden trophy from his pocket. It was in shape of two hands shaking. "This year's Golden Handshake Award for best team spirit goes to a new face -"

Francis' attention was caught by the vibration in his pocket. Turning around, he took a quick peek at the text message flashing on his screen. It was from Gilbert and read; 'Take him down'.

"- and one of the funniest son of a bitches I've ever had the pleasure to know. And I think you know who I'm talking about."

The Frenchman tucked his phone away and perked up when he heard the crowd chanting his name. Beaming from the recognition, Francis was quickly lead to the stage. Alfred greeted him warmly and patted him, hard, on the back. "Congratulations, Franny!"

Francis shook hands with Alfred and then accepted his award. Alfred pushed the mic into his hands and then stepped aside. Thankfully, Francis always knew what to say so the sudden acceptation speech came easily to him.

"Merci to you all for an amazing weekend!" He paused when the crowd cheered again. His gaze went from one face to another until he settled on Arthur's. The text message flashed in his mind and his smile was quickly lost. This would be the ideal moment. "I... have to thank my husband, Arthur." Francis swallowed. This wasn't easy. "He probably never told you all the story about how we met."

He could see the fear in Arthur's expression. Francis shifted from one leg to the other, highly uncomfortable but unable to look away. "It might come as a surprise to many of you that we didn't know each other for very long before we got hitched." He smiled weakly and chuckled. "What can I say? You know? When you know, you know."

Arthur was stunned. His mouth was hanging open. Francis couldn't resist and seized his chance; "On our wedding night, we were so busy running back to the honeymoon suite that we never really got a chance to have a first dance. so..." He looked over towards the band. The lead singer took the hint.

"Ladies and gentleman," the singer announced proudly. "For the first time, Mr and Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy!"

Arthur could feel his heart beating madly in his chest as Francis stepped off the stage and walked over. The music was soft but he barely heard the song. Francis bowed at the waist and held out a hand. Arthur nervously accepted and Francis quickly pulled him closer so they were pressed together. Smiling at Arthur's blush, Francis eased him into a dance.

The crowd back away to give them space, some clapping while others gently tapping against their champagne glasses. Arthur's blush darkened when Francis leant in and whispered in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine.

"You hear that? They're clinking. I think that means they want us to kiss."

"If that's what the crowd wants..."

"But if you're not up for it, you don't ha-"

Francis was cut off by the soft touch of Arthur's lips against his own. Closing his eyes, his grip around Arthur's waist tightened. He could feel Arthur's raising pulse and lavished in the feeling. When they pulled apart, neither could resist a light laugh.

The music picked up its pace and one by one they were joined in their steps by the other guests.

* * *

The night air felt refreshing. It wasn't too cold and they were free to walk around the grounds without being disturbed. The music from inside was faint on the breeze. They settled down together by a fountain, their hands trailing on the surface of the rippling water. The light discussion continued without an interruption.

"Next question," Francis said thoughtfully. "When... When was the last time you were really happy? And don't say Vegas because, if you do, I'll cry."

Arthur shook his head and shifted around to the side so he could stare down at the water. "There was this one day, before the job and before Kiku. I was feeling really adventurous so I took the ferry about 30 miles east of the city." He smiled faintly at the memory. "There was this great lighthouse. I mean, it was just right on the beach, off the boardwalk."

"You went there by yourself?"

"Yeah. I just... sat there on the beach. I listened to the waves and watched the sunset. I had no concerns. I had no responsibilities, no job stressing me out. I had no one to please but myself."

"That's the framed photo you have," Francis said knowingly, giving Arthur a small smile.

"It was the greatest day I had in a long time."

Francis fell quiet. He looked down at his lap, pretending to dig away a piece of dirt trapped in his clean nails. For Arthur to run away from the stress and then return to it head on was something to admire. Unlike himself who was still cowering away, too afraid to face the risks. Inhaling deeply, Francis slapped his palms on his thighs and leant back a few inches. "I did take myself out of the game," he admitted. "If you stop betting, you never have to lose."

Arthur glanced at him in the corner of his eye. "I'd bet on you, Francis."

The Frenchman smiled gratefully and, to Arthur's feeble protest, rested his head on his husband's shoulder. Arthur flustered and looked away then relaxed and rested his head against Francis'.


	10. Chapter 10

To say things had drastically improved would have been an understatement. The tension at work was down and Arthur was even able to joke around more with his colleagues who had taken far more interest in him now. The stress was fading fast and his cheeks were sore from the unusual amount of time he spent smiling. And to put the cherry on top, Arthur walked past Yao's desk to find the Chinese man attempting the same bottle trick he did earlier. The bottle broke quickly and champagne drenched Yao.

Arthur wasn't the only one benefitting from the change in their relationship. Francis had decided to admit he was wrong and returned to his father's work place. Instead of laughing and flirting to the others, he kept his head down and focused completely on the designs. His phone would ring on and on with Gilbert's name appearing on the screen but Francis paid it no attention.

All in all, things had never been better. Arthur tried to figure out why but the butterflies he had in his stomach each time he and Francis settled down for dinner together or watch a film or say goodnight told him what it was. It was scary to think about at first but...

He hitched his bag up his shoulder and tried to hide the smile on his face as he left work. This day couldn't be any better. Finally, it was the day of the hearing. Their marriage would be over and the money would be decided upon. After so many months, it was a ray of sunshine. Though, he couldn't help feel somewhat disappointed that it was over...

"Arthur!"

"Huh?" Recognising the voice, Arthur turned around and saw his ex hurrying over towards him. "Kiku?"

Kiku stopped in front of him, panting slightly. He seemed lost on what to say. Arthur was unsure on what to do. The last few months, he had barely given Kiku any thought at all. This wasn't fair on either of them. "I... can't talk right now, Kiku. I'm sorry. I have to get going. I just..."

"I want you back, Arthur."

"Wh-what?"

Growing shy from Arthur's reaction, Kiku kept his gaze on the ground. "I made a huge mistake letting you go. I see that now. You have this glow about you at the park the other day."

Kiku was at the park? He rarely went there before so why then? Arthur began to feel uncomfortable. Francis wouldn't... would he?

"Not that you didn't before," Kiku quickly corrected. "Sometimes it takes losing something for you to realise what you had. I want to make up for the wrong I did to you." To Arthur's horror, Kiku was holding out the engagement ring he had given him earlier. "This is yours. I gave it to you, and I want you to have it."

Arthur accepted, if only to check if it really was the one. It was. An ugly mix on emotions rose at the same time. Keeping his voice steady, his tone heavily darkened. "Where did you get this?"

Silly question, there was only one answer.

Catching the confrontation, Kiku didn't answer it. "Arthur... you are good enough for me."

That confirmed it. That... bastard betrayed him. It cut deeper than any of their foolish tricks. To go to Kiku and tell him all this... Arthur felt sick. He felt hurt. Terribly hurt. Grasping the ring tight in his hand, Arthur walked away without another word.

* * *

Francis was growing restless in the court. The judge's stare was unnerving and Gilbert was doing little to keep calm next to him. Finally, the doors opened and Arthur strolled through. Francis brightened up at once and waved. Arthur didn't even look at him. Arthur didn't spare a second to acknowledge Francis' presence. He sat down next to his lawyer, his face set to stern.

Feeling neglected, Francis lowered his hand. What had suddenly gotten into his little Englishman?

"Court is called to order." Ludwig's voice was loud enough to quieten those in the back benches. Once silence had been established, Judge Ludwig looked down at those sitting in front. "Well, look here. The happy couple! Six months down the road. Did you learn anything? We'll see."

Dr Roderich was the first to be called to the witness box. After the last few meetings, Francis felt hopeful to what he may say.

"Now, Dr. Edelstein, in your opinion, did the couple, Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland, obey the court order to live together as man and husband, and do you believe they put sufficient effort into the marriage?"

Roderich gave the two a steady gaze whilst frowning. "These two have a lot of issues. A lot of deeply unsettling issues that, as individuals, they seriously need to work on."

Smiling weakly, Francis continued to glance at his soon-to-be ex husband. Arthur was still giving him a cold shoulder.

"Seriously. But together, in my honest opinion, they're perfect for each other. It's the real thing. Go figure."

Francis beamed. Arthur still did not react. Francis lost his smile quickly. Something was definitely wrong.

"Thank you, Doctor. You may step down."

Gilbert, unaware of Francis' concerned, leant back in his chair and waved to get Elizaveta's attention. She was sitting next to Antonio and gave Gilbert a cold glare when he smirked at her. Gilbert raised up his notebook with a crudely drawn hand with its middle finger sketched on it. Elizaveta grinded her fist in the palm of her hand.

Hearing his name, Gilbert quickly dropped the notebook and stood up. "Hi, Your Honour! Have you lost weight?" Chuckling at his brother's disapproval, Gilbert nodded. "Gotcha. Let's begin. Although Mr Kirkland ran up $25 thousands in credit card debt in my client's name, my client recently spent the same amount for materials for his new fashion business. Therefore, we propose the following settlement, Your Honour... The original $3 million, deduct half for taxes and $50,000 that's already been spent, that leaves $1.45 million to be divided..." Gilbert took a deep breath and looked highly pained at being forced to say it. "...equally."

Ludwig nodded. "That's the spirit. You've learnt to share. Do you accept the proposal?"

Arthur's lawyer leant against her client as the Briton whispered into her ear. Looking surprised, the lawyer then stood up. "No, Your Honour. We do not."

Gilbert coughed in his hand, "_Gold-digging whore_!"

"My client has advised me that he doesn't want any of the money," Arthur's lawyer continued on. "He just wants a divorce."

Francis' heart ached. He sank down in his chair and ran his fingers through his perfect hair. Arthur was still refusing to look at him. What could he have possibly done to get such a cold reaction?

"Mr Kirkland, are you sure?"

Arthur rose. "Yes, Your Honour, I am."

Ludwig saw his chance to end this ridiculous court meeting and seized it. "Then I hereby grant the divorce and award all the monies to Mr. Bonnefoy. Court adjourned." He banged the hammer and then took his leave.

Francis couldn't help but flinch as Arthur walked over. The glare enough was to scare even the boldest of men.

"You win, Francis. I officially want nothing from you," Arthur said coldly. He held out his fist and opened it out. A small ring fell and rolled upon the desk. With Francis speechless, Arthur walked away.

Francis didn't call for him. He didn't try to explain his actions. He buried his face in his hands and cursed his foolish behaviour.

"Oh Mein Gott!" Gilbert suddenly cried out, hitting Francis on the shoulder before jumping onto his chair. "I won a case! Jesus Christ! Dude, we won! I won! Yeah! I'm the law, bitches! I'm a lawyer! To me! Anybody need a lawyer?"

* * *

Gilbert's excitement last the whole day. At the first chance he got when they left the court, he rang up their friends and demanded a party to celebrate their winnings. He was skipping around, boasting about the case and bragged about his ideas for buying an island.

Francis did not join in. He was curled up on the sofa with an untouched drink on the coffee table. What he had done was unforgivable. Arthur now despised him for it. The money was nothing compared to the joy he had had with Arthur around. He wanted the little Englishman back.

The sofa sank a few inches as someone settled down next to him. Antonio patted him fondly on the arm. "Time heals all wounds, mi amigo. Now that you guys are officially done, I was hoping to maybe get his number." Francis looked at him with watery eyes. "Si, okay. You don't have to answer that right now."

* * *

The meeting was called the moment Arthur walked in. All were eager to attend but were forced to endure Alfred's rantings about needless points before finally coming to the topic they were all patiently waiting for.

Alfred rested his hands on the back of Arthur's chair. "Now we come to the final item on our agenda. Congratulations, Artie."

Yao looked highly disappointed but he was the only one. Everyone else clapped and a couple cheered; the weekend spent together had improved their opinion of Arthur greatly. Arthur stook up and shook Alfred's hands, feeling a sense of pride. The endless weeks of hard work was finally paying off. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down." Yes, he definitely earned this promotion. And now he could have his own office to... to do exactly what he had been doing for months on end. The thought made his mood plummet.

Arthur lost his smile. "Actually, sir, I think I'm gonna have to let you down." Alfred closed his mouth quickly in surprised. "Why don't you just give it to Yao, you know? He's good, he deserves it, and besides, I think he just enjoys being miserable."

Yao perked up. Alfred raised his eyebrows. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"No, I don't. But I think that's the point." Arthur smiled faintly. "I would rather do nothing and be happy than do something that I don't love." Picking up his papers, Arthur left the room. It was incredible how much burden lifted off his shoulders.

* * *

Francis stirred his spoon around his soup, watching the ripples with a dull expression. He could feel his father's gaze on him but couldn't stop himself. He didn't have much of an appetite now. Martialis rolled his eyes at the sulky behaviour and looked around his son's flat. "I saw you finished an outfit," he said.

"Go ahead, Père," Francis muttered moodily. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. Il est bon. Good work. I'm proud of you."

Touched, Francis gave him a small smile. "Merci..."

"But -"

Francis' shoulders slumped again. He should have expected this to come the moment Martialis invited himself over.

"...you royally screwed up when it comes to that Englishman."

Francis rolled his eyes. "It was a big, stupid mistake. The entire marriage was a lie."

Martialis' voice turned into a similar one Arthur used when giving lectures or plain nagging in general. "The marriage might have been a mistake, but it was not a lie. And I think that anybody who has spent time with you two recently could tell you that. So why don't you get your head out of your derrière and go do something about it? Or should I tell you not to, and then maybe you will?"

For someone who claims to be so knowledgeable about love, Francis had been nothing but a blind fool to it. And it had to be his father to tell him that. Francis gripped his head, cursing himself and then pushed away form the table. "I have to fix this," he mumbled. Excusing himself, Francis ran out of the flat.

* * *

Elizaveta shook the martini then poured it into a couple of glasses. After passing them along to her customers, she then looked back at Francis. It was clear from her expression that she didn't like him and was probably thinking of the hardest object to throw at his head. He had cost her a good amount of the money too.

"He's gone," she said sharply.

"Gone?" Francis panicked. "What do you mean 'gone'?"

"He lost it. He quit his job, shut off his phone. He took off." Wiping down the bar counter, Elizaveta leant over. "Look, I don't really care much for you, and I want to cut your friend Gilbert's balls off. Seriously. But for some reason, you're the only man that Arthur can actually be himself with, so I wanna tell you where he is, I really do. I just don't know."

"What do you know?" Francis asked desperately.

She shrugged."I don't know. If you were miserable and you wanted to get happy again, where would you go?"

A light-bulb would be flickering on above his head if this was a cartoon. Francis clapped his hands together and quickly gave her several kisses on the cheeks. "Merci beaucoup! Merci!"

He narrowly avoided her fist and ran off excitedly.

* * *

The grains of sand slipped through his fingers and moulded around his hands that sank an inch deep. Each wave of the tide tickled against his toes, leaving a chilly feeling when it retreated. The sun's reflection gleamed on the sea's surface, rippling with the current. Arthur couldn't tell how long he had been sitting here for. The tranquility took away all his troubling thoughts and left him feeling drowsy but peaceful.

A hand gently touched his shoulder, alerting him to the new presence who settled down beside him. Arthur blinked and stared at Francis whose attention was upon the stunning scenery.

"You found me..."

"Do you know how many lighthouses there are 30 miles east of the city?" Francis said in a light tone. "Cinq. Just in case you were wondering."

Arthur dropped his gaze only to rise it a second later. He looked at Francis. The Frenchman looked exhausted. It must have taken him many hours to find him. A part of him was highly grateful but the other side couldn't help but question his motivates. "Why did you come here, Francis?"

The Frenchman was quiet for a moment. He closed his eyes and felt the light sea breeze blow through his now messy locks of hair. It was one thing to prepare a speech prior to giving it but when the moment came to speak... Francis decided to go for it. The worst had already happened. He shifted around to face Arthur properly.

"When we were married, I was horrible," he confessed. "Sick. Just wrong. And it was the best time I've ever had." He cracked a smile. "You bet on me, Arthur, and you made me want to bet on myself. So don't think about anyone else and just answer this for you. Do you... want to be married to me again?"

Arthur rubbed his fingers together and watched the sand fall onto his lap. "You know... for a long time, I've tried to please everybody," Arthur said thoughtfully. "And by not trying to please you, I became myself again." It was not going to be an easy relationship but it was going to be thrilling and unpredictable. He smiled and placed his hand down on Francis'. "I would love to be married to you again."

"Je suis désolé," Francis said, letting Arthur rest his head upon his shoulder. "Je t'aime, mon chéri."

"I love you too, idiot..." Arthur closed his eyes. With just the sound of the sea and Francis' warmth beside him, he could not ask for more. "I quit my job. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do."

"Well, it's a good thing that we have a ton of money." Francis chuckled.

Arthur lifted his head up again and joined in the laughter. "Bloody hell, you're right. We hit the jackpot."

"Oui," Francis said fondly. He cupped Arthur's chin then leant in and stole a quick kiss. "I did."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you all who read the story. I know it's not an original but I'm glad you enjoyed it to make it this far. As usual, I would also like to say a special thanks to those who reviewed the story: silverheartlugia2000, Chanify, Honda Katsuya, FrickYeahCanada, GreenEyedPirates, , Bats-and-Birds, SilverDawn1313, but especially FivePhoenix for their continuous reviews for each chapter.


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